Three Words
by the.terrorist
Summary: Anthology. Sasu/Saku. Just in how many ways can Sasuke realize that he's loved her all along? 33: new year's eve
1. into the rain

Uchiha Sasuke had never really liked rain.

And as he stood outside his inn of choice with nothing to shelter him but the hood of his cloak, onyx eyes studying the deserted, muddy streets with a dull intensity, he quickly concluded that he knew exactly why that was.

Sometimes—after a hot summer day, for example—it was refreshing. He had no problem with admitting that. And in battle, thunderstorms created the perfect conditions for his most deadly attack—Kirin.

But when it poured down in sheets for an entire week, one seriously started to wonder just when in the world it was going to end, and the whole process became cold and wet and so damn annoying that it made him want to remain locked up inside his hotel room. Not that it took much for that to happen. Because he was just… tired. Tired of running around aimlessly, chasing shadows of his past, traveling from country to country without a purpose, without a reason, without the drive of ambition and vengeance that had followed him all his life.

He had needed the reprieve, the silence, the time to cool down and think things through. But it was over now, and he had no idea what to do next.

A sudden gust of cold wind blew through the narrow street, sending little droplets of rain underneath the protective cover of his cloak. Sasuke heaved a sigh. He supposed the first thing on the list was getting the hell out of that village before it got flooded.

It took him under a minute to locate the exit, even at the sluggish pace he set for himself. There were two main reasons for which he had chosen that particular village, and those were its small size and its relative stillness. He had needed the rest—both physically and psychologically speaking—and he could now state that it had served its purpose. His mind was clear for what felt like the first time in years. It had taken quite a long while, but things seemed to have finally settled down. He had come to terms with the past… And he could finally look forward to the future.

It was unnerving to realize that the only future he could imagine, he had destroyed a long time ago through harsh words and rash decisions.

But he supposed he deserved that.

He had barely taken two steps outside the village when his keen senses picked up five strong chakra signatures heading his way. They were all spiking dangerously, as though in a fight, but were moving with too much speed for that to be true. The wheels in his head quickly turning—too much on his mind to want to fight unless necessary—Sasuke was about to mask his own chakra signature and hide under the protective cover of a large oak tree, when a small figure stumbled out from the thick bushes in front of him.

He realized it was a woman without needing to see her face. She was dressed all in black—a nondescript pair of tight-fitting pants and a long-sleeved blouse that were both soaked through and clinging to her body. The weapon pouch strapped to her thigh told him she was a kunoichi, something he would have never guessed, were he to judge by her alarmingly low chakra levels.

Because of the darkness of the scenery and the thick sheet of rain that was still falling heavily from the sky, he could hardly make out any of her defining features. She continued to run forwards, looking over her shoulder more often that she should, and remained oblivious to his presence—until she walked straight into him.

Sasuke knew he could have easily avoided her—and he knew he should have done exactly that if he truly wanted to stick to his plan and avoid any fights—but there was something inside of him that had whispered not to. And since ignoring that something had done him very little good—and had basically gotten him to where he was now—he figured he should go with listening to it this time.

The woman gasped in surprise as her small body collided forcefully with another, more muscular one. Strong hands grasped her forearms to stabilize her with a speed and agility that could only be associated with shinobi, and her eyes snapped up to look at the face of her possible enemy.

Her heart pummeled to her stomach as she realized that she recognized those features.

Sasuke's did that same.

She was different. It was obvious that she was no longer a naïve little girl, but a woman—a true kunoichi. Everything proved that—from the look in her eyes, the mixture of surprise and shock failing to conceal the underlying confidence, to the way she held herself, even in a situation where she was clearly outnumbered. Had he been an enemy, he would have been dead by now. There was no doubt about that.

But behind all that… She was still Sakura. And with her pink hair wet, in complete disarray, and clinging to her face in thick strands, with her full, rosy lips parted in shock and awe, and with those brilliant green eyes staring back at him and mirroring his own, he realized that she had never looked more beautiful.

Later, when he found himself fighting side by side with her against the group of rogue shinobi that had been following her, a strong, vaguely familiar feeling washed over him.

Finally. He was home.

* * *

><p>The drabbles I plan on posting have no connection whatsoever between them. When—and if—they ever do, I will let you know.<p>

Review, please!


	2. pet

"Your house is so big, Sasuke-kun," her awed voice filled the silenced hallways as they both entered the mansion, the sound of the front door closing firmly behind them joining it soon after. "We always thought it had to be huge, but nothing really prepared me for—this," she continued, her curious eyes slowly shifting around the foyer, taking in their surroundings.

"Hn," her partner simply grunted, and with a hand on her lower back, slowly steered her away from the entrance.

She was silent during the short trip to the living room, but her green eyes were lit with awe and excitement as they scanned every bit of space that was revealed to her. To be honest, Sasuke found her reaction to be rather amusing.

In all the years they had known each other, she had never gotten the opportunity to see his childhood home—and neither did Naruto. The blond had squeaked and promptly decided it had to be haunted when he took matters into his own hands a few weeks prior and came down to the Uchiha District to get the sole inhabitant to train with him at four in the morning.

He claimed he was suffering from insomnia. The Uchiha thought that was a subtle—and he had _never_ thought he would associate that word with his obnoxious best friend—way of putting things, what with his new girlfriend being away on a mission and Naruto worrying about her as though she had just learned how to handle a kunai.

Regardless, he had been beaten up and dealt with, and now here he was, showing his _other_ teammate around for the mission briefing and planning they were supposed to meet up for this afternoon. She was clearly more surprised—and appreciative of her surroundings than the blond idiot had been, that was for sure.

Sasuke was used to this—used to living in a huge house all by himself; he had done it his entire life, and truth to be told, he found it less than appealing. Sakura was another story entirely. She probably found everything to be something straight out of a fairy-tail. He found himself unable not to notice how that idea soothed old wounds—even just a little.

She slowly lowered her worn satchel to one of the couches as they entered the living room, but her eyes remained fixed on the walls and the numerous decorations that had changed very little since his mother was alive to care for them. It may be painful, but he liked to hold onto her memory.

"Whoa, this is just—" she cut herself shot, her eyes darting to his as her hands rose in her defense, "Sorry to be acting like a complete moron right now, but this is just—" It was the second time she paused, but this time, a frown appeared on her features. "What's that?" she asked, already making her way towards one of the other couches.

It took Sasuke a moment for his eyes to zero in on the object of her attention.

"Aww! You have a cat?"

He frowned—whether in displeasure or confusion, he found it hard to say. "No," he answered, eyeing the bundle of black fur that had suddenly and unexpectedly decided to take residence in his home.

"Well, she sure seems to be very comfortable on your couch," she stated, sounding like she hardly believed him, as she crouched down next to the animal and began to scratch its sleeping ears. It came as no surprise for the Uchiha when the cat promptly stretched and started to purr loudly.

"My mother—" The words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission, and he stopped himself for a moment, before her green eyes encouraged him to continue, "She liked cats. She fed a lot of them."

Sakura frowned. "But—"

"My family has ninja cats," he offered as a second, more logical explanation. The only one that she had truly ever needed, he realized after a moment.

"Oh," she said, realization dawning on her. "So these ones just stick around."

"Hn," he grunted.

She smiled, and he could tell that she was about to say something else, but then the cat attracted her attention, and she looked back down at it.

"Aww!" she exclaimed. "You _nudged_ me! Poor you! You just want some love!" Picking up the black bundle of fur, she cradled it to her chest. Sasuke frowned as the purrs only got louder with the action. "Do you have any cat food?"

A dry look was all she received in response. Which letter of the word 'no' did she not understand?

"I thought so," she stated. "Well, you'll have to buy some. And some milk. Cats love milk…"

She continued to ramble, and when she started speaking about checking out what was in his fridge that the cat could eat, the Uchiha thought about stopping her, but his mouth snapped shut on its own accord as she started down the hallway without even acknowledging his presence.

It occurred to him as he followed her that this was the way his mother used to silence his father back when he was young and they were still alive.


	3. photograph

It was a sunny afternoon in Konoha, and all three males of Team Seven could be found brooding inside a certain pink-haired kunoichi's apartment.

Earlier that morning, they were assigned a mission—at the same time that that a group of half-dead ANBU stumbled into the hospital.

Tsunade had excused her apprentice and therefore delayed their departure, which apparently caused great displeasure amongst her teammates, for they all knew perfectly well that, by the time she was done with her patients, she would be exhausted and not in any shape to travel. But Kakashi had deemed it useless to even try to convince her to leave the hospital earlier, and stated that they would take it easy for the rest of the day, camp somewhere close to the village, send her to bed early and let her off without a night-shift, and then they would be fit to travel faster and recover the lost time.

It was not an extremely important mission, anyway; all they had to do was escort a Grass official back to Konoha.

So now here they were, three hours later, lounging around Sakura's apartment as she stuffed her necessities in a backpack. Leaning against the wall, next to the window, Kakashi had his nose buried in his perverted book. Naruto had disappeared into the kitchen the moment they stepped through the doorway, and Sasuke simply stood there, hands in his pockets, onyx eyes taking in his surroundings.

"_Sakura-chan!__"_ Naruto called from the kitchen. _"__Your__ fridge __is __empty!__"_

"That's because you raid it all the time, Naruto!" she yelled back, annoyed. She shoved a pair of sweatpants into her backpack, and bristled when she felt both males' disapproving gazes upon her. "What?" she challenged.

They immediately looked away.

Sakura rolled her eyes. They could be so damn protective sometimes that it was downright ridiculous. Especially when they both knew perfectly well that what she had told Naruto was nothing else but the truth.

"_Ah!__"_ the blond exclaimed, oblivious to the tension that blanketed the other room. _"__Don__'__t__ worry,__ you __guys!__ I__ just__ found__ some__ ramen!__"_

All three sets of eyes rolled at his proclamation, and Sakura shook her head before going back to her packing.

Three minutes and a loud beep later, Naruto appeared in the doorway, slurping eagerly from a bowl.

"Whoa, Sakura-chan!" he exclaimed through a mouthful, his bright blue eyes fixed on the wall opposing the bed. He ignored his teammate's reproachful glare as he walked forward and came to a stop right in front of it. Sasuke followed his line of view, and a frown quickly replaced his glower; a moment later, he was standing right next to Naruto. "I didn't see this the last time we came here!"

"That's because the last time you guys came here, you were too focused—too _amazed_ by the fact that my room isn't pink," Sakura supplied sarcastically.

Naruto winced at the edge in her voice. When tired, the pinkette could either be really distracted, or really snappy. He liked it much better when it was the former.

"But this is like, huge!" he exclaimed again, scanning the—_surprise, __surprise_—dark red wall before him. It was cluttered with pictures—of family and friends, from get-togethers and girls' night outs, from birthdays and missions, from random days and random events. There were pictures with Tsunade, with Shizune and Tonton, with half the medical personnel at the hospital. There was Iruka. There was her mother and her father—a family portrait. Kakashi without his mask on and Sakura kissing his cheek. There was even Genma.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed in a glare. The one time that he went on a mission with Sakura, Kakashi, and Genma, he had seriously thought he was going to _maim_ the man by the time they got back to Konoha. His old sensei had seemed to share the same feelings—and he had even voiced them.

"Ohh, look!" the blond exclaimed from beside him, "There's us in Lightening Country!"

They were. Along with their old genin photograph. The one they had taken months after he had come back and the new Team Seven was formed. Ino. Hinata. TenTen. Neji. Rock Lee. Kiba and Akamaru. A stray cat she was still feeding. Naruto. Kakashi. Sai. Even that weird Shino guy. Shikamaru. Chouji. Tsunade again. Team Seven, Team Seven, Team Seven… Naruto. Parents. Some guy in scrubs. An elderly-looking woman that Sasuke knew was the landlady and that Naruto liked to call Baa-chan. And then him.

The photo was taken the year before at the Spring Festival. She had worn a short, white dress, and had curled her long hair… It had been the first time he had seen her wearing heels and with make-up on. It had also been the first time she had convinced him to take a picture with her. She had jumped on his back playfully and unexpectedly. He remembered feeling annoyed, but that his hands reacted on their own accord and grabbed onto her thighs to stabilize her. They were looking at each other. She was grinning; he was attempting to glare. It certainly wasn't the most flattering picture of either of them.

But somehow, because of a reason he could not understand, that picture was the largest. And posted right in the middle of the clutter.

Naruto seemed to notice that at the same time.

"Hey! Why the hell does _the__ bastard_ get to be in the middle?"


	4. laugh

Monday morning found Sasuke in the conference room of the unfamiliar Jounin headquarters. It was his first day as a Jounin—and it went hand in hand with his first official meeting.

It had been nearly a year since he turned against Madara and returned to Konoha. He spent five months under probation, and once the Hokage dismissed him as a threat to the village, he was able to work his way up in ranks once again. It had been a ridiculously easy process—he was already ANBU level and everybody knew that.

He found it quite strange that his obnoxious blond teammate was not beside him at the moment, though. He had made Jounin before him—apparently right before he returned—and now claimed he wanted to try for ANBU; the Uchiha was pretty sure he wouldn't miss such an opportunity to rub that into his face without having a very good reason.

Acting almost on their own accord, his eyes began to scan the room for familiar faces, and almost immediately caught sight of a pink head in a seat in front of him.

His mouth twisted in a frown.

He had known Sakura would be there, but nothing truly prepared him for the actual situation. There was just something about this once-weak girl being comfortable in an environment of killers, something about her having gotten there before him that didn't quite sit right with him.

He had never enjoyed killing. He had avoided taking lives at all costs—unless it was those of his worst enemies. What happened with Itachi only served to make him even more cautious. Because death was irreversible—and he could not afford to make the same mistake twice. Call him paranoid, but one could never really know when the next piece of truth would be revealed, what possible undersides there were left for them to learn.

He believed his big brother would be proud of him now, though. He had grown strong. He had made Jounin. And he would soon be fighting for the village he had died to protect. It might not be the path he was most comfortable with—psychologically speaking—but he would adapt.

"Now, as our most intelligent team has so eloquently put it," the Hokage's annoyed voice filtered through his thoughts, catching his attention, "these missing-nins are acting _stupid_." She glared at someone behind him. "And they need to be stopped."

A strained cough shattered the silence of the room, and all eyes zeroed in on his ex-teammate. She had a hand over her mouth and was facing away from the front of the room, as if trying to inconspicuously hide her face from her mentor. Sasuke raised an eyebrow as he realized why exactly that was.

Tsunade seemed to have figured it out just as quickly. "Be careful, Sakura," she warned, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "I think you might be having a seizure."

Then she started laughing, and the tense atmosphere that had previously blanketed the room seemed to dissolve in an instant as others joined in with smiles and chuckles. There had to be an inside joke somewhere in there, he realized. But even though he hated being left out of the loop, he couldn't really bring himself to care—not this time.

She might not be the strongest combatant. She might barely be able to hold her own against a ninja of his caliber. She might be a Jounin only thanks to her medical skills. But there was something about being able to make an entire room of grown shinobi—dangerous, calloused people who had seen it all—laugh that seemed to him a source of a bigger power than he could never even dream about having.

And as he turned his head away to hide his smirk, Sasuke realized that this environment of killers was probably not as bad as he had thought.

At least she was there to light it up.


	5. innocence

"I just don't get it!" Naruto whined loudly, his bright blue eyes wide as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

He was sitting on the bed, Indian style, his hands tugging at his blond locks in desperation.

From his spot next to the window, Sasuke rolled his eyes. Leave it to the idiot to make such a drama out of a simple situation.

They were currently in Wave Country on a small mission Tsunade had deemed appropriate to send them on; she claimed that their teamwork was far from perfect, what with him having just gotten off probation and had his chakra-seals removed, and that they ought to rebuilt their trust in one another by taking small steps—baby steps. He resisted the urge to scoff as that thought crossed his mind. He would bet on all his family fortune that the only reason why she was torturing them like that was because she was pissed at him. She had done a very poor job at disguising that.

Another thing she had disguised very badly was her glee upon witnessing his famous death glare. Not that he had _wanted_ to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had hit the mark with her actions, but he had been unable _not_ to feel offended when she presented them with their future mission. After all, he was an Uchiha. He was strong. He was one of the best shinobi out there. Hell, he had gotten them rid of Madara! And he had a feeling that the only reason why this mission was ranked B was because they had to travel to another country.

He had been very clear in conveying the fact that _he would not stand for this one more time_ into his death-glare. Tsunade had glared back, hardly intimidated, and the Uchiha knew she was dying for them to return so that she could give them another petty assignment, but at least he had left the office with the satisfaction that he had managed to wipe that smug smirk off her features.

…It would be a lie to say that he wouldn't have rather left that smirk in its place if it had gotten him out of dealing with the stupid dobe.

"What is there so hard to get?" Kakashi questioned with only a hint of impatience and exasperation in his tone. He seemed to be used to this, and Sasuke felt a fleeting sense of admiration towards his old sensei and the fact that he had managed to keep himself from killing the blond in the years that he had been gone.

"Why does Sakura-chan get to have all the action while we're stuck on stupid patrol duty?" he screamed out in frustration.

Sasuke winced, and was about to snap at him, when a soft, feminine voice resounded through the room, answering him.

"Because we're pretty sure our target isn't gay, that's why."

It was almost comical how all three heads in the room snapped in the direction of the bathroom.

It was _definitely_ comical how different their reactions were at the sight of her. Naruto started spluttering. Kakashi's visible eye narrowed in concern and fatherly protectiveness. And Sasuke's mouth dropped open—barely, elegantly, because he was an Uchiha before everything, but it did.

Sasuke had seen enough of Sakura while he had been on probation. He had seen her dressed casually and he had seen her in her fighting gear. He had seen her in blood-splotched scrubs. He had particularly admired the way her lab coat clung only discreetly to her curves. One time, when Naruto had dragged him to her apartment so that they could take her out to Ichiraku's—where else?—he had even seen her wrapped up in a tiny, fluffy, pink towel.

But she had never looked hotter to him than she did in that very moment.

She was dressed in a little black dress that clung to her curves and reached down to her mid-thigh. Her feet were clad in the sexiest pair of strappy black sandals he had ever seen, and her pink hair was falling down her back and shoulders in soft waves. Her brilliant green eyes seemed even greener—a feat he had never considered possible—their color enhanced tenfold by the dark eye-shadows she had used and the jet-black eyelashes that framed them so perfectly. They were shining with emotion, just like they always were, but it didn't take long for a prodigy like him to notice that, aside from the usual kindness and cheerfulness, there was something more in there: there was smugness. The same smugness he had seen in Tsunade's expression only a few days before.

Her bright pink lips stretched into a smile—a wide, coy smile that made him narrow his eyes in suspicion—as she took in their expressions.

"Well," she said, as if testing the word on her tongue, "I'm ready if you are."

There was no innocence left in her.

It took him a minute to come to terms with the fact that he actually quite liked that.

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><p>Merry Christmas, Everybody!<p>

Pictures on my profile and on my blog, as usual.

Review!


	6. colors

"Oi, bastard!" Naruto's loud voice echoed through the clearing, driving away the few birds that were still scampering from tree to tree at sunset.

Sasuke was hoisted on a thick branch, casually leaning against the tree. His eyes were closed, and his hands folded over his stomach. He was trying to relax after a long day of traveling—and a chance encounter with a couple of annoying rogue nin—when he heard his best friend's distant wail. For a moment, as his jaw clenched automatically in annoyance, he considered ignoring him. But then he suddenly remembered—that was not an option with Naruto.

He sighed in resignation. Was half an hour of undisturbed rest that much to ask?

"What?" he snapped, not even bothering to conceal his annoyance.

"I need water!" his teammate wailed in response.

Sasuke cracked an eye open to glance at the camp below him. Sure enough, the knucklehead ninja was slumped over a pack of instant ramen, looking quite tired and miserable.

It took more than that to move the young Uchiha, though. "Hn," he grunted, uninterested, and closed his eye back.

"But, Sasuke-teme!" the blond yelled in protest. Sasuke's keen ears picked up Kakashi's sigh from somewhere above him. "I'm tired! And Sakura-chan is nowhere to be found!"

The Uchiha snorted. "Suit yourself."

"Teme!" he whined, and Sasuke opened his eyes just in time to catch the pleading look he sent him. "I'm too hungry to care for myself any longer! Please help me!"

Once again, the raven-haired man considered closing his eyes and attempting to continue with his relaxation. It would be easy to ignore him, now that he had found out what he wanted; with his curiosity out of the way, he could tune him out with a grace and talent that one could really only achieve after missions and missions of dealing with the blond.

But then something inside of him—he liked to call it his 'conscience'—bristled and reminded him that it was _Naruto_ who had taken a kunai for him earlier that day because he was too busy looking out for a certain someone to look after himself. The least he could do now was get him some water. No, scratch that. He _would_ get him some water to pay his debt and get him off his back. He wanted to avoid owing anybody anything, he reminded himself, and with a small, resigned sigh, he swiftly jumped down from the branch he had been sitting on. He ignored the blond's cheers as he snatched an empty plastic bottle from an opened backpack and started to make his way towards the small stream located near their camp-side.

Fresh water was the main reason why they had chosen to stop there for the night. They could have traveled for another few hours, and covered more ground that way, but they had all agreed on the fact that the small comfort of having a source of water nearby was worth it and could be indulged after everything they had been through the past week. It had been a hectic mission, he would give it that.

Their water source was really just a small creek cutting through a flat area with lush grass, the shores on either side delimitated by rocks of different sizes and colors. There were also a couple of pools scattered here and there, deeper portions perfect for bathing, but the only one crazy enough to get into the cold water—since winter had barely left them—was their pink-haired teammate, courtesy of her being a medic and having perfect chakra control. He could care less about not being able to clean up. He would like to, of course, but he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of willingly letting hypothermia set in, so he was content with having fresh water to drink.

He had not expected to stumble right across one of those pools, though. He should have been able to feel her presence, but it looked as if she had masked her chakra in precaution for any stray shinobi lingering around the area, so he hadn't been able to tell that she was there. Thankfully, she seemed to have already finished. She was freshly bathed and already dressed in her spare set of clothing—and for some reason or another, she didn't notice his presence. She was busy with trying to squeeze as much water as possible out of her long, pink locks. Secretly, Sasuke liked the fact that she had chosen to grow it out again. He was aware of her reasons for cutting it back then, and truth to be told, he felt that the short hair made a statement she no longer needed to prove. She was strong now. She had grown into a true kunoichi—and there was no need for anybody to acknowledge her now.

The Uchiha was just about to step out of the bushes and make his presence known when his teammate decided that she had squeezed enough water out of her hair, and was now fluffing it with her hands, separating the strands that had matted together. The dying rays of the sun peaked through the wet locks, catching the color in ways he had never seen before.

He had known her since they were twelve. Been on more missions with her than he could count. Seen that hair so many times that he was starting to feel weird when it was missing from the scenery. But he had never realized just how many colors were mixed in there, how many hues and shades made up that warm, annoying pink that colored his black and white life. The patches of hair that were now relatively dry were a pale pink. The wet ones were dark magenta. The ones that caught the sun were bright fuchsia. Light coral and baby pink, the roots darkening to a more natural red…

Sasuke suddenly wondered if they felt as silky to the touch as they looked.

Later that night, after he had managed to snap himself out of his daze before he made a fool of himself, after Naruto had stuffed himself with enough ramen, after the nightshifts had been decided, after everyone fell asleep and he took his place as their protector, Sasuke found out that yes—they did.

* * *

><p>Happy New Year, Everybody!<p> 


	7. eyes

Sasuke bit back a sneeze as he pushed past a particularly dusty cardboard box, onyx eyes narrowing into a glare and bleeding red as they angrily scanned their dark surroundings. If the boxes that were piled high and the cluttered shelves were any indication, he seemed to have stumbled into a storage room of some sorts. The remaining space was little and tight—so much that he could barely fit his large frame in between boxes in his attempt to make it to the door once and forever.

The harsh truth was—this was not the kind of room he had expected to end up in when he spotted that perfect lone window a few minutes ago.

_Damn that snake and his stupid scroll._

The young Uchiha still found it difficult to understand why he was willing to do his dirty work—to stoop so low and actually obey him. Then the image of his new 'sensei' flashed through his mind.

_Ah—he remembered now._

Training was bearable—more so when the memory of that night loomed over him—but more time in his presence was most definitely not.

And besides, going on missions gave him a certain sense of normalcy that, quite frankly, he did not want to lose. It felt like home—and he was comforted by that. He was not used to his surroundings. He was not used to seeing that snake's face every day. He was definitely not used to his creepy eyes watching his every move. But he was used to missions. He was used to assignments. He was used to success. It was a type of guilty pleasure that he indulged himself.

Finally making it to the door, he pressed his palms to the wooden surface and closed his eyes, sending out a light pulse of chakra to detect any outsiders. Pleased to find the hallway to be empty, he twisted the knob and swiftly exited the room, effortlessly blending into the shadows that obscured the long passage.

Reaching up with one of his hands, he tugged the collar of his shirt up so that it covered his face, leaving only his onyx eyes uncovered. Orochimaru had been abundantly clear about not wanting anybody to recognize him, and Sasuke wasn't entirely fond of the idea of being associated with the snake more than he already was, either.

_Now, he had been told that the scroll he was looking for should be in a room __in the west wing…_

The window he had climbed in through was quite low, which meant that there were some stairs he needed to find before planning any further.

Pressing his back flush against the wall when he reached a curb, he once again sent a pulse of chakra through his vicinities. There was no response—the coast was clear.

Which was the reason why he actually gasped when he made to turn the corner and collided with another body.

_A smaller body—most likely a female…_

His mind worked in overdrive to obtain information and regain the upper hand and his hands quickly wrapped around the intruder's forearms. He was not going to let this woman—whoever she was—get away so that she could alert the others, that was for sure.

But then he took the time to actually look down at her—and suddenly, his entire world seemed to change, the center of his universe shifting.

A hood and mask covered the woman's face—but not her eyes.

Bright emerald shone in the dim lighting so strongly that it was almost surreal.

It was the first time a long time that Sasuke faltered.


	8. precious

The darkened skies rumbled ominously with thunder, making the already oppressive atmosphere thrum with electricity barely waiting to be released. The wind was steadily picking up, stirring colorful leaves from the forest floor and sending them flying in a whirlwind into the air. Soon enough, it had the trees bowing down on its very whim.

Sasuke was honestly thankful they had managed to find shelter, however uncomfortable a small, cramped cave might be, before the storm started. He wouldn't have wanted to be caught out there after everything that had happened on that mission, that was for sure.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm _starving_," Sakura announced from beside him, and he turned his head to see her with her backpack on her lap and a pack he knew all-too-well in her hand. "The bad news? I only have some instant ramen."

"Hn," he grunted. "I don't have anything left."

They had been on their way back from a particularly rough mission that Naruto had demanded they were given when they were attacked by a group of what could only have been rogue shinobi—violent rogue shinobi. They had managed to fight and defeat them, but in the frenzy of the battle, they had lost each other, and with such a storm brewing on the horizon, both Sasuke and Sakura had decided there was no time for them to wander around in search for their teammates.

"Then it'll have to do," she said, ripping the package open and moving closer to the fire they had managed to start.

Outside, the skies opened and rain began to pour down, claps of thunder and flashes of lightening following sooner and sooner after one another, becoming all the more threatening. As droplets of freezing water and gusts of cold wind began to enter the small cave and disrupt the comfortable atmosphere inside, Sasuke reached for his backpack to pull out a blanket. They had set up their sleeping bags against the far wall, but it now became clear that wouldn't make for a warm and cozy night, as he had supposed it would.

Leaning back against the stone wall, he winced as a small wound he had received in the recent battle stung. He hadn't counted for Sakura's trained eyes on him.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"

He very nearly said no, but then he changed his mind. "It's just a scratch," he said, and nonchalantly spread the blanket over him.

"Perfect," she chirped, moving back to her initial position beside him. "That means I have enough chakra to heal it."

Sasuke knew there was no arguing with her when she got into medic-mode, so he resumed at heaving a sigh as he lifted his shirt for her to see the wound on his abdomen.

Sakura clicked her tongue. "That's more of a gash than a scratch," she said, throwing him a dirty look.

He simply scowled up at the ceiling in response throughout the entire procedure of her cleaning up and then healing his already closed wound.

"Great timing, too," she declared. "Our food's done."

When Sasuke opened his eyes, the soothing sensation of her warm chakra had dissipated completely from his system, and the pinkette was settling next to him with a steaming cup of ramen in her hands.

"I'll eat first, 'cause I'm smaller."

He snorted.

"I'm leaving you half."

"Hn," he grunted, and closed his eyes again. The sound of the wind roaring and the rain falling outside was almost drowned out by the crackling of their fire.

"So, Sasuke…" his teammate began. She was known for her inability to keep quiet during meals, after all. "I noticed that you can't see as well as you used to…"

His eyes snapped open as her words registered into his mind and he realized exactly why her voice sounded so small and hesitant.

"I noticed it last week, during your examination," she explained. "I… I didn't mention it in your file because I wasn't sure how you'd feel about having any type of information about your bloodline recorded…" she trailed off and looked down at her food. "I just wanted you to know that I can probably heal it… if you want me to. Here," she said, handing him the half empty bowl.

Sasuke took it from her wordlessly, shocked into silence by her offer. It was no surprise to him that Sakura had noticed his regressing eyesight and that she was confident enough to think she could restore it. What surprised him was that she had thought about him and put him above her duty as a medic. What surprised him even _more_ was that he wasn't even considering her suggestion. He knew the answer. And he realized then that if he was able to trust her with something as precious of his Sharingan, no matter how much he tried to hide or deny it, what he had with her was a different, much stronger bond than what he had with Naruto or Kakashi.

"Alright. When we get home."

She was beaming as she looked up at him. "When we get home," she confirmed.


	9. stubborn

Uchiha Sasuke had a scowl on his face as he stalked up the stairs that led to the entrance of the hospital, the automatic doors opening to let him through. Nurses and doctors and patients walked past him and none of them dared to say a word to him. He didn't stop by the receptionist's desk. He knew exactly where he was going.

He wasn't sure what bothered him more—the fact that Tsunade thought of him as her servant or that he had an idiot for a teammate. On the one hand, the Hokage had once taken the liberty to send him to buy her more sake for her secret stash. On the other, Sakura had shown up with less than half of her chakra reserves the last time they had been assigned a mission.

It was a close tie, but something told him he was more annoyed at a pink-haired kunoichi than a blonde one—at least in that particular moment.

Marching down the hallway with all the arrogance he had inherited from his clan, he slammed the door to her office open and then closed behind him. Sakura looked up with a furrow between her brows from where she sat at her desk, practically buried under a mountain of paperwork.

"Sasuke-kun?" she questioned, confused.

"Tsunade sent me. You're going home," he declared. His irritation was as clear as day in his expression.

"Why would Tsunade send you…?" she asked, frowning uncertainly.

"Because you've been here for two days," he told her impatiently. "Come on."

He had barely taken a single step in her direction when she suddenly sat back in her seat and grasped the handles as if her life depended on it.

"You are _not_ dragging me out of the hospital again, Sasuke," she warned, watching him with green eyes—_tired_ green eyes.

"Maybe if you got smarter, I wouldn't be _sent_ to drag you out of the hospital again," he stressed.

"I am _very_ smart, thank you very much," she answered, clearly annoyed as she returned to her work.

"You need to go home," Sasuke insisted, glaring, his level of irritation steadily rising.

"I need to finish this paperwork," she countered, throwing him a look from under her messy bangs.

The Uchiha nearly groaned out loud. "Sakura, people need sleep!"

That seemed to hit a nerve. Slamming her pen down on her desk, she turned to give him her full attention, eyes blazing. "You know, I never heard you or Naruto complaining about lack of sleep on a mission. This is my job! You're a shinobi first; I'm a _medic_ first. If you can fight S-rank criminals without a wink of sleep in your system, I can handle the hospital. Alright? Stop patronizing me! I know my limits!"

"Do you have the guts to enter the surgery ward running on no sleep?" he challenged.

"Do you see me in the surgery ward? No, I'm here, doing paperwork. I entered the surgery ward when I was prepared."

"Two days ago!"

"Two days ago."

"What if there's an emergency?"

"There are chakra-boosting pills that increase your awareness."

For the first time ever, Sasuke found himself speechless. He opened his mouth to answer once, twice, thrice, only to close it back. Then he glared and crossed his arms over his chest.

Sakura resumed at throwing him a look before turning back to her paperwork.

After a while, he wandered over to the couch and made himself comfortable. After all, Tsunade had made bringing Sakura home his mission, and it was clear to him she was not budging until she had finished.

But as he sat brooding in a corner, he realized, weirdly enough, that he wouldn't have it any other way.


	10. rebel

The holding cell was cold and dark. Everything was stone and steel and there wasn't a single soul in sight.

Of course, as an S-rank criminal, Sasuke supposed it made sense to be locked up in the most isolated and best protected part of the prison.

That didn't make it any less irritating, though.

He had returned to Konoha voluntarily. He had helped bring down one of its most dangerous threats. It was obvious he hadn't made that decision so that he could be thrown into a filthy cell and forgotten by the world.

Bored, and with all the time on Earth to brood, the Uchiha glared at the black void stretching in front of him. There was only a faint source of light at the very end of the long corridor, and it was clear it wasn't there for his benefit, seeing as it helped him none.

Resting his hands on the cold bars that separated him from the rest of the world, he heaved out a frustrated sigh. No one had come to see him in almost a day, and in the meantime, his anger had been slowly but surely building up.

If this went on for much longer…

In the distance, a heavy door was pushed open. The distinctive sound of steel against steel echoed in the empty space, and he looked up, curious.

The light was now more intense, and he took a wild guess and assumed the door had been left open.

Slow footsteps approached him, a deliberate firmness resounding through each and every one of them. Soon enough, he was able to make out the shape of a woman. The pink hair was the next trait that stood out, and that was enough to prompt his recognition.

Clenching his jaw, he looked away again.

_Of all the people…_

"Sasuke," she greeted, and he found it hard to place her voice and the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she came to stand at the other end of the cell, her slim fingers wrapping around the cold bars as her forehead came to rest against them.

He remained quiet and still. There was nothing he had to say to this girl—or woman.

A minute was spent in silence.

He could sense her heavy gaze upon him, but it was cold; it was thoughtful and insightful. It wasn't warm, nor was it loving; it wasn't teary, either.

"Tsunade may call you in tomorrow," she announced at last.

He raised an eyebrow.

_May?_

He had been able to make connections and realize that he wasn't allowed visitors because a certain hyperactive blond hadn't set foot in front of him, so if she wasn't there on orders…

"Are you breaking rules, Sakura?" he asked in an almost mocking tone, gaze sliding over to her figure and meeting her eyes for the first time.

The green in them seemed to sparkle as she smirked. Not smiled, not grinned; but _smirked_.

"I always do," she answered in a smooth voice. "After all, the game isn't fair."

He was silent for a long time after that, spellbound as he watched her.

She had grown, there was no doubt about that. She was taller; her body was lean and slim, but still had subtle curves in all the right places. Her pink hair was long once again, wrapped in a braid that tumbled down to her mid-back. Her facial features were more defined; the line of her jaw was stronger, her cheekbones stood out more, her lips were fuller. Her eyes, if possible, were even brighter.

"Why are you here?" he finally asked. His mouth was dry and he wondered why that was.

Sakura shrugged, her nonchalant attitude never wavering. "I wanted to be."

"Why?" he pressed.

"There's no other reason," she said. "I just did." Sighing softly, she moved away from the bars and raised her hand in a sign of silent greeting. "See you, Sasuke," she said, before turning her back to him and walking down the corridor, towards the light.

Sasuke followed her all the way, until the door closed behind her, and he was left in darkness once again.


	11. high heels

It was a clear, sunny day in Konoha. Not even a cloud was in sight in the blue, vast expanse of the sky, and the wind that blew that morning was more of a cool, fresh breeze than the biting, ice-cold gusts the locals of the village had unfortunately had to grow accustomed to over the uncharacteristically long and cold winter they had had to face that year.

In fact, spring was so welcome and so overdue that even the last surviving member of the Uchiha clan, the broody, emotionless, cold-hearted avenger, ANBU member Uchiha Sasuke, had wandered out of his comfortable apartment—his safe-haven, some might also call it, the place where he spent the entire time he didn't spend outside, training or away on missions—to relax on a bench, with the sun beating down on his face and the wind blowing in his hair.

Well, it _had_ been relaxing—until the idiot people seemed to have taken a liking to calling his best-friend (people, but never himself), found him and decided to keep him company, unwanted and uninvited, by talking his ear off. Now, every sigh the Uchiha gave was of complete and utter exasperation, rather than of peace and contentment.

And to think that he'd been so close to actually understanding why people chose to hang out outside…

"We should tell Baa-chan to give us a mission! Now that the weather's all nice again! Not today, though, maybe she'll leave us alone, 'cause I have like, a _million_ of things to do! Maybe tomorrow…"

Sasuke's head lolled back as he closed his eyes in a useless effort of controlling his rising temper.

"…And I have to see Hinata-chan today, I told her we'd meet up sometime, but it was always too cold, so—"

"If you have so much to do," Sasuke finally snapped, interrupting him, "What the _fuck_ are you still doing here?"

While he glared at him with all the annoyance he felt for him ruining what promised to be such a beautiful day, Naruto grinned.

"Well, what does it look like? I'm bonding with my best-friend!"

Sasuke growled.

"Oh, don't be like that, teme! We both know you _love_ spending time with me, and—_Ohh!_ Sakura-chan!"

His sudden, loud exclamation stopped the Uchiha's caustic reply from bouncing out of his mouth, his head snapping in the direction where Naruto was so frantically waving.

He blinked. One, twice. _Thrice_.

What was she _wearing_?

On her part, Sakura gave both of them a gentle smile and a subtle wave, and then turned the other way, continuing on her journey.

Surely, she wasn't going to the hospital…

"She's probably going to see Ino," Naruto drawled as he relaxed on the bench, crossing his arms behind his head. "She always dresses nice when she's meeting up with Ino, you know? It's like they're having some sort of weird competition, those two."

No, Sasuke did _not_ know. He knew what Sakura wore on missions. He knew what she preferred to sleep in. He knew she would choose shorts over skirts any day. He even knew what her favorite pair of panties was—she'd never let him rip it. But he hadn't known what she wore when she went to see Ino. And he hadn't known she looked so damn good in it, either.

Subtly, he shifted in an effort to become comfortable again.

"Man, I hate it when she does that," the blond continued to speak beside him, oblivious to the tension rising inside his best-friend. This time, though, Sasuke found he wasn't as bothered by his mindless chatter. "And you know what's weird? That she shouldn't even look that good."

Thinking back to her unusual outfit, Sasuke concluded that Naruto was right—something he almost never did. Sakura had donned a simple, red velvet dress, with sleeves that reached her elbows and hems that brushed her mid-thighs, together with black, high-heeled booties. What was true, the heels made her legs seem longer and leaner than was humanly possible, but her dress hardly revealed anything indecent. Her pink hair was the same of always, caught in a messy bun on top of her head, and she was barely wearing any make-up.

And yet, there was no man that didn't turn his head to look after her.

Sasuke's brows furrowed as he turned his own thoughts over in his mind. There was no denying the fact that he had noticed men did that quite a lot—turned their heads after his pink-haired teammate in the street—but then again, that happened all the time. She had no need to wear anything special in order to make herself stand out.

His mind was more focused on how he would get her to wear heels for him, to be honest.

Narrowing his eyes, he glanced in the direction where she had disappeared. He could barely make out the top of her pink head now.

Sakura wasn't one to wear heels or to dress nice for nothing. She was a simple girl.

Unless…

…she had somewhere to be.

Grunting to himself, he leaned back in his seat.

If all he had to do in order to see sexy, high-heeled clad Sakura again was take her out on a date, then everything was fine in his life—and maybe the day could be salvaged.

He'd had that in mind for quite a long time, after all.


	12. cookies

Sasuke entered his house that late winter afternoon, tired from his early patrol, only to be met with the sweet smell of cinnamon and chocolate. The waft of warm air hit his face and, together with the overwhelming scent, would have made him step back, had it not been for his famous Uchiha pride and composure.

It wasn't unpleasant, by any means; it was simply unexpected.

Frowning, he nearly fell under the impression that he was in a dream, some type of a trance, as he shrugged his coat off his shoulders, hung it in its place at the entrance, and moved further down the hallway, until he reached its end.

His frown deepened.

What was _Sakura_, of all the people, doing in his kitchen?

As if sensing his unease and hearing his unspoken question, the pink-haired kunoichi turned, leaving what seemed to be her first batch of cookies unattended on the counter and offering him a smile.

"Oh, hey, Sasuke-kun!" she greeted. "You're home."

Not knowing what else to say, he settled for a simple, "Hn."

"You didn't forget, did you?" she continued, turning her attention back to her baking.

The Uchiha felt tempted to ask her what exactly he was supposed to have forgotten, but his pride wouldn't let him. Thankfully, Sakura continued, having always had the ability to talk for both of them.

"You agreed to host our Christmas dinner. So, I'm here early to bake some goodies. You also agreed to this."

Leaning against the doorway and running a hand tiredly through his messy dark locks, Sasuke attempted to make sense of his own thoughts and memories.

He _did_ remember agreeing to host their Christmas dinner. With the war over and Team Seven reunited, Sakura had proposed that they should gather together for a nice, warm meal on Christmas, complete with the traditional chocolate cookies and red wine, a prime step towards becoming the extended family they had been claiming they were for years, though remained unable to act as because one very special member was missing.

Since Naruto lived in a trash can, Kakashi in an apartment where all the space was taken up by his porn collection, and Sakura in a tiny one-bedroom home near the hospital that was packed to the brim with medical textbooks and boxes she hadn't had time to unpack since she moved in after the war ended, Sasuke had been the next logical option—and he hadn't quite found it inside him to deny them.

Yes, he'd been an asshole all his life, and yes, he'd never asked for their devotion, but it had been there all along, silently supporting him even in his hardest times; Team Seven had dedicated their lives to chasing him, chasing a bond they had formed as children and that Sasuke didn't understand—but that, slowly, they managed to teach him that it was alright to accept.

So, in order to make up for all the trouble he had put them through over the years in which they had known each other, among paid lunches at Ichiraku's, training sessions he was never late for and missions he would always try to solve on his own, with as little damage to his team as possible, Sasuke also agreed to offer his mansion for an evening all of them hoped would become a tradition.

Would it be entirely wrong or strange of him to admit that maybe he hoped that, as well?

Sakura had been ecstatic—though Sasuke still failed to remember when exactly he had agreed to let her bake in his kitchen.

"Here." Snapping out of his daze, he glanced down to see her standing in front of him with a plastic bowl filled with hot cookies in her hands. "Have some."

"I hate sweets, Sakura," he reminded her as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The pinkette rolled her eyes. "I know. But it's Christmas and my cookies are surprisingly and exceptionally good." Grinning, she handed him the bowl, not taking no for an answer. "Just taste them," she encouraged, before turning around and heading back to the oven, where her second batch was baking.

Sasuke glanced at her one more time, noticing for the first time how perfectly she blended into his kitchen, clad in a beige sweater dress and black boots, hair caught up in a messy bun from which pink curls escaped to frame her face. She looked effortlessly beautiful, as usual.

Ungluing his gaze from her to settle it on the cookies she had baked, he sighed in defeat and stuck his hand into the bowl, pulling one out. He wouldn't get out of at least tasting one, but for some reason, he couldn't say it bothered him as much as it could.

Taking a bite, he expected to cringe, because sugar truly did make him nauseous, he wasn't, as Naruto so eloquently put it, simply being pretentious and stuck-up about it. But, with great surprise, he found that he didn't. Opening his eyes, he glanced down at the cookie in his hand while he slowly started to chew it.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't nauseating. It was good, actually. Not too sugary, not too sweet. It reminded him of the hot chocolate Sakura had made for him one winter night when he stumbled, injured, to her apartment, and she hadn't had tea to warm him up.

Finally relaxing against the doorframe, Sasuke lifted the cookie to his mouth and raised his head to watch his teammate.

"You like it?" she asked, throwing him a smile over her shoulder.

He shrugged, and her smile grew, because if she had been waiting for an affirmation, that was it.

_I like you_, Sasuke wanted to add. But he decided there would be time for that in the future.

* * *

><p>AN: Not exactly fitting, considering it's summer and all, but I had it lying around, found it, and decided to polish it a bit and post it! I want to write more drabbles, try to be more creative, so if you have a prompt, let me know! (Review, PM me, or leave it on Tumblr.) I can't guarantee I'll write it, but I'll try!

Let me know what you thought! :)


	13. hot water

Sasuke growled, low in the back of his throat, as the sound of running water echoed in the small bathroom, through the wooden door and all the way down the hallway, into the kitchen—all along with the dobe's infernal singing skills.

It was no secret that Uchiha Sasuke had very little patience at his disposal, but the truth was that life had taught him not to allow his temper to bring out the worst in him. He had resisted heroically through an entire mission, dealt with stupid questions about irrelevant matters and even more stupid complaints about lack of ramen, about lack of action, lack of space, lack of sleep—lack of anything other than a brain, because, of course, whoever had it in them to complain so much _obviously_ had none to speak of—and he had even managed to deal with excruciatingly loud snores during the night without becoming violent.

Of course, he had growled, he had hissed, he had even thrown a couple of punches—but the fact of the matter was, he hadn't killed and he hadn't _tried_ to kill.

If that didn't mean he ruled his temper with an iron first, he didn't know what possibly could. Except he knew he had very little time left until he finally snapped.

"_Please_ tell me he's not still in the shower," Sakura's familiar voice snapped him out of his—admittedly—murderous thoughts, thoughts in which Naruto died a very slow and painful death by his hands (very possibly involving a creative method using hot water), and he looked up to find her standing at the other end of the table. She was still clad in her ninja gear and her eyebrows were furrowed as she unwrapped the elastic from around her ponytail; staring at him, she expected an answer.

"Hn," he grunted, knowing that she would understand. They'd been dealing with the same situation for so long, after all.

For such a filthy person, Naruto _sure_ took his time to bathe, which was, quite honestly, something that Sasuke had never been able to understand.

His apartment could be smelled from a mile away. He _never_ cleaned up after himself, _never_ checked his fridge to empty it of all that was spoilt, _never_ did his dishes and only _very_ rarely did his laundry. It made absolutely _no sense_ that he would spend so much time in the shower and the Uchiha certainly wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't been there to see it with his own eyes.

Normally, Naruto's weird tendencies weren't such a problem, since missions were usually short, they camped in the forest more often than they checked in at hotels, and they all had reasonable personal space. The idiot could then either find a pond to soak in all day long or not bathe at all, considering hygiene wasn't quite that high on his list of priorities when he wasn't near a source of hot water.

However, on such a long mission, when they had to remain undercover even when they slept, when they had to move quickly and efficiently, when the downtime was little and far in between—and when all of that meant they had to share the same breathing space for so damn long, along with a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom at run-down inns spread across the continent, Sasuke, quite honestly, felt like ripping his hair out.

Of course, the dobe knew exactly how much time he spent in the shower. That was why he always made sure to enter the bathroom _first_, no matter how many times Sakura beat him up for it: because, by the time he was finished, there would be no hot water left. And so, both of his teammates were forced to stand under a freezing spray of water for as little time as possible—while he had the opportunity to enjoy his long, hot, _relaxing_ showers.

As he hit a particularly high note that made his ears ring, Sasuke narrowed his eyes and prepared to pull up his sleeves and wring his neck—but Sakura beat him to it when she slammed a hand on the table, shaking the wood as her green eyes blazed with fire.

Thankfully, though, her anger wasn't directed at him, so the Uchiha allowed himself to breathe out a sigh of inconspicuous relief. He'd learned on his own skin, a very long time ago, that of all the people he could piss off, Sakura had better _not_ be one of them—for his own safety. Holding true to that belief had saved him a lot of bruises and concussions, as opposed to their idiotic teammate, so he point blank didn't care about what others said about him being her bitch. He really, honestly, truly did _not_.

"That's it!" she growled, stomping her way out of the room, and Sasuke immediately stood up, hurrying after her, conflicted as to whether he should let her kill him or stop her from doing something she might later on regret.

But Sakura didn't head for the bathroom, as he'd thought she would. Instead, she headed straight for the kitchen. Furrowing his brows in confusion, the Uchiha stepped through the doorway, blinking once he found her yanking open the door that hid the small central heating system every room in the inn had.

A moment passed before realization dawned on him—then a positively _evil_ smirk pulled at the corners of his lips without a way or a reason for him to stop or hide it.

"Let's see how _he_ enjoys taking cold showers," she muttered under her breath, pink hair wild around her face as she slammed the door shut, just as the dobe's awful singing was interrupted by a scream that resounded through the small apartment.

As they heard him slam around in the bathroom, clearly fighting to escape the ice-cold water that had come out of nowhere and without a warning, Sasuke's smirk widened, though Sakura remained with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips in a pout. She clearly wasn't happy to have to deal with this after a long day of work and the Uchiha could relate to her—except for the fact that, unlike her, torturing the dobe was _always_ fun for him.

She was quite beautiful, though, it then occurred to him. With her full lips jutting out and her brows drawn together in a frown and her glittering green eyes. Her body wasn't something to be neglected, either, especially the manner in which her chest pushed against her uniform with the way she had crossed her arms.

A second later, Naruto stumbled out of the bathroom and into the hallway, all wet and struggling with wrapping a towel around his waist, but Sasuke's eyes weren't on him anymore.

They were entertained in a completely different way, by a completely different person. And he didn't quite find it in him to claim he preferred free entertainment over ogling the only woman that would probably ever catch his eye.


	14. insanity

Sasuke had known it had been a bad, _bad_ idea to listen to Naruto from the moment he stepped into the loud club to be attacked by blinding lights flashing into his eyes and sweaty bodies pushing against him.

Clubs were most definitely _not_ on the list of places the young Uchiha visited. Granted, the list in question was barely even a list, to begin with, since it contained a maximum number of three locations—his apartment, a nice restaurant that cooked meals that smelled and tasted in a way that reminded him of his childhood, and, sometimes, on the rare occasions when the mission had been long and he was tired, his pink-haired ex-teammate's apartment (because it was the closest to the main gates).

Clearly, though, going out was not something he did. Socializing was not something he did. But Naruto had insisted. He had begged and begged until Sasuke hadn't known what to do to get him off his back. So, when the blond promised him to leave him alone for an entire week, not come by his house and not request his presence on a mission unless Sasuke specifically sought him out for that reason, the Uchiha had deemed it a good enough deal for him to spend an hour or two in a club, at a stupid reunion only someone as stupid as Naruto could have come up with.

It was a monthly reunion, he'd claimed. Something that had been thought of after the war. At first, it had been a way for the Rookie Nine and their friends to mourn the loss of their loved ones together—keeping each other company, giving each other support. Now, five months after the long-awaited installment of peace, it seemed to have turned into a raging way of letting out steam.

Sasuke had never participated to the famous reunion before. He had been in the hospital, then under house arrest, then fresh off probation—with Naruto being surprisingly insightful as to spot his desire to have a week or two to himself after having been under ANBU surveillance for two months straight.

Time passed, though; soon, he was on his trail once again, and Sasuke didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

Heaving a sigh, he raised his onyx gaze, which almost instantly fell over a familiar group of people sitting at the bar. Muttering a curse under his breath, he began to make his way in their direction—a difficult task, one that pissed him off even more than he already was, but one that was necessary, regardless.

He'd stay for half an hour, he decided, shortening the timeframe he'd set for himself before he left his apartment, simply because it was too loud and too crowded and everything that he hated.

Naruto could also kiss his ass for all he cared, but he was _not_ catching sight of him for a week.

Greeting his _maybe_ friends, _certainly_ comrades, he took a seat next to Shikamaru, who had his default bored expression plastered on his face even with a large pint of beer in his hand. Naruto noticed his presence and immediately came over, flopping down beside him and throwing an arm over his shoulders.

"You're late, Sasuke-teme!" he complained, clearly already tipsy, as he ordered another drink alongside him.

Sasuke shrugged his arm away with a growl of annoyance that was lost in the noise of the crowd and the pounding of the music and drowned his shot as soon as it was set in front of him. If he was to get through the next half an hour, he was going to need alcohol, that was for sure.

"Hn," he grunted.

He _was_ late—that, he had to admit. It had been entirely intentional, and it didn't take him long to realize that people hadn't lost time at all, since they were all quite drunk or well on their way there.

Shikamaru was lazily, perhaps more lazily than usual, watching the moving crowd, Lee was having a contest with an intoxicated Kiba, and while Sai, the artist that had been his replacement, made it difficult for Sasuke to read him, if his red ears were any indication, the alcohol had worked its way into his system, as well—which probably led to him currently trying to tell what he was supposed to feel in such a moment and why he couldn't remember what any of his stupid books said on the matter.

The rest, he couldn't see. Kakashi had to have left with his porn book, since he clearly wasn't there anymore. Naruto himself had started to ramble at his side, his words drowned out by both the music and Sasuke's disinterest.

Turning around in his chair, he took his refilled glass with him and faced the crowd, his eyes immediately starting their search for pink hair. There was no reunion that Sakura missed, and if he could find her, maybe he could pass the dobe on to her. She, for one, couldn't be drunk; she had an alcohol tolerance so unlike her mentor's, it was almost laughable.

He found her in relatively little time, her pink hair unmistakable even in the midst of the large crowd. Sasuke blinked, took a long swing of his drink, shook his head, closed his eyes, opened them—and then blinked again.

She was still there. He hadn't been wrong about her presence and he hadn't mistaken her for anybody else.

A frown followed his bewildered expression.

She had melded with the mob, but she was closer to the bar than other people, which was most likely part of the reason why he had managed to spot her so quickly and why he could easily see her even as the crowd shifted and pulsed as if it were alive.

At that point, he wasn't sure that was an entirely good thing.

She was dressed in the tightest garment he had ever seen, a leopard printed one that clung to her every curve, hugging her hips, pushing her breasts up, emphasizing her tiny waist. Her pink hair was caught in a sophisticated up-do she somehow managed to pull off as effortless, with curly tendrils escaping the mess and framing her face beautifully—unintentionally, he would say, clashing with the bright green of her eyes, green that was brought out even more by the heavy make-up he had never seen her wear before.

And _her shoes_. Kami help him, he blinked again.

He'd seen her wear the black sandals before. Sakura was known to walk around the hospital in quite professional outfits, if her tight dresses (that were a respectable length) over which she threw a white coat, were any indication, and he'd been admitted there enough times since his arrival back in the village to be able to make a clear statement about that. But perhaps it was exactly _because_ all of the dresses that he'd seen her wear were a respectable length that he hadn't quite realized how many wonders the heels did for her body.

Because, seeing as _this_ particular piece of clothing ended a bit above her mid-thigh, which could no longer be called decent _at all_, he had trouble telling where her long, luscious, perfectly shapely legs were ending.

He had trouble processing a lot of information, truth to be told, as he couldn't seem to be able to get rid of the image of how they would look and feel wrapped around his neck—but that was an entirely different story.

Oblivious to his stunned composure, Sakura continued to dance, moving her body to the rhythm of the music, laughing with Ino, trying to involve Hinata into their not-so-innocent dance, and feeling the pulse of the crowd with a bright grin that never slipped from her lips.

Sasuke had never quite seen her in such a state before.

He'd seen a lot of her after Team Seven was reinstated and he was allowed to leave on missions once again. From weekly dinners at Ichiraku's, to training sessions in the mornings, to hospital visits when he needed them, to missions on which something memorable always happened (because that was what missions with Team Seven were like), Sasuke had had the opportunity to gather a lot of information—about all of his teammates and how time had changed them.

He'd thought he had Sakura down. She was strong, professional, warm, caring, happy, and generally a lot of fun, people would say, even though she was a bit violent—but even that was alright as long as the punch she dealt him as a greeting when the war ended wasn't repeated.

He realized now, though, that he hadn't known _this_ side of her.

The fact that the pinkette laughed a lot and knew how to have fun wasn't a secret to him. In his opinion, she might as well earn the title of the most lively member of their team—because, truly, Naruto complained and whined too much; and he was _stupid_. But the way she danced with Ino, the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way she lifted her arms in the air, moving her lithe body perfectly in time with the beat of the music, the way the sparkle in her green eyes couldn't be covered even by the flashing lights… everything he was currently witnessing spoke of something he hadn't been aware existed inside her.

And she was _not_ drunk. Sakura did _not_—_could_ not—get drunk.

...Or could she?

Watching her have fun with her friends, watching her laugh and smile and lose herself to the music, he came to the conclusion that it was fine, either way. Sakura was a responsible, perfectly capable adult, not a sloppy drunk and a loser, like the rest of their friends, and—

Pausing on his way to bring his glass down from his lips, he spit out his drink in shock when his gaze moved upwards again, hoping to find a glimpse of her luscious legs—and instead finding Sakura sharing a pole with Ino.

"Woo! Go, Sakura-chan!" Naruto yelled from beside him, throwing an arm into the air, his drink sloshing over the rim of the glass held in the other.

Sakura heard him, turned her head, laughed, and waved back.

Sasuke blinked.

Was she _insane_?!

Slamming his glass on the counter so hard he was surprised it remained intact—or, rather, he _would_ have been surprised, had even a sliver of his attention been focused on anything other than the task at hand—the Uchiha stood from his seat and, before he even realized what was happening, stalked in her direction.

When Sakura yelled, shocked, as he forcefully grabbed her around the waist and slung her over his shoulder with the intention of never letting her near a dance floor again clear in his mind, Sasuke concluded that, yes—_yes_, she _was_ insane.

It was part of her charm, after all.

* * *

><p>AN: For **crazymel2008**, who asked for jealous Sasuke. It turned out as more possessive Sasuke, but in my defence, it had a mind of its own!


	15. halloween

"Sakura," Sasuke growled for what had to be the umpteenth time that day, glaring at her from where he stood right outside her walk-in closet.

"Yes, Sasuke-kun?" she answered, sweetly, yet again, as she showed up in the doorway.

For a moment, the Uchiha was distracted by the sight of long legs, exposed cleavage, and entirely too much skin. To say that Sakura had grown up and matured into a beautiful woman in the time that he had been gone would be an understatement, and there wasn't a single day in which he wasn't reminded of that. From the smooth skin that covered her taut flesh, to the low-cut tops she seemed to prefer, to the pink hair that was once again long, full, and incredibly shiny, his ex-teammate was a sight to behold every morning or night, no matter what she wore or who was beside her.

He made a small mental note to ensure that, if that skimpy excuse for a black dress was all that she planned on putting on that night, he would be by her side to chase all the hormonal men away. That was as far as his usually murderous thoughts went, though. At that point, he had other, more important matters to attend to.

"This is _ridiculous_," he snapped, suddenly remembering that he was very, _very_ annoyed—so annoyed he was actually borderline _angry_.

The pinkette blinked. "What is?"

Sasuke resisted the urge to scream at the sound of her innocent voice. "_This!_" he almost shrieked, grabbing the sides of his ridiculous, chosen-by-Sakura Halloween costume—which was quite a difficult task, considering he could barely move his arms in it. "It's ridiculous!"

Sakura rolled her eyes. "It's _not_. You only say it's ridiculous because of your stupid Uchiha pride. But it's not. It's Halloween. You aren't really _supposed_ to look dignified."

"Sakura, it's a fucking _tomato_!" he yelled, scowling down at himself. He couldn't even glimpse his feet because of the huge, round, _full_ tomato surrounding his waist. His neck and hands stuck out of it, while his legs were covered in tight, dark green pants. The rest of the costume consisted of an equally green hat, but he absolutely _refused_ to wear that.

In response, Sakura simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "So? It's your favorite food."

"That's not the point," he hissed, dangerously low.

"Well, Naruto wouldn't mind dressing up as a ramen cup!"

"That's because he's stupid and ridiculous and it would _suit_ him!" he snapped.

"It's not my fault you don't like anything," she stated, pursing her lips and placing her hands over her hips, obviously growing mad. "I tried, okay?"

"No, you did not _try_," he hissed. "You did this on purpose!"

"I did _no_ such thing!" she shrieked, and Sasuke almost had to shake his head to chase the thought of how beautiful she look when she was angry away. "Nobody's forcing you to be here, Sasuke! Take it off and go home if that's what you want. You already missed my birthday and I survived. My Halloween party could pull through without you and your attitude, too!"

Although he shut his mouth, Sasuke narrowed his eyes, stepping back to avoid being hit by a sleek, pink ponytail as she abruptly turned around to leave.

He _knew_ what she was doing. He knew she was forcing his hand and emotionally blackmailing him because he had _intentionally_ missed her eighteenth birthday that year, back when they were still on not very good terms. She had invited him, taking a step that he never would have himself. He had resumed at not showing up. That said, he also knew for sure that she had chosen his costume on purpose. To spite him, to annoy him, to get back at him.

Unfortunately, another something that he knew was that there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way he could leave now, turn his back on her and betray her even over something as stupid as a Halloween party. Not again. _Never_ again. Not even if it meant having people see him dress… as a tomato.

With a heavy sigh, he poked his head inside the closet.

"Sakura," he called, exasperated.

"What?" she bit back, turning to face him, all big green eyes and flushed cheeks and pouty lips, cat ears nestled in pink hair—and Sasuke wondered how he hadn't given in sooner.

But then he realized that he had, and that the only time his resolve weakened was when she was out of sight.

"_Fine_," he spat, glaring at her.

She tried to hide a smile as she turned back to the difficult task of picking out her shoes—and failed, miserably.

Sasuke growled, walked out, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall outside the closet. As he listened to her move around inside, he had to wonder when, in the course of a single summer, she had managed to wrap him around her finger so thoroughly. Or maybe she'd had him there all along and all she'd had to do was remind him.

Either way, he scowled.

"Sasuke-kun," her sweet voice reached his ears, promising no good. "Where's your hat?"

* * *

><p>AN: Late, but here! **crazymel2008**, I know you wanted him to dress up as Naruto more, but the idea of him in a tomato costume was too strong for me to resist. Hope you enjoyed, regardless!

Also, I finished the second chapter of **Heartbeat** today! I will try to have updated by the end of the week, but no promises!

Please review! :)


	16. protection

As night fell over the main camp of the Alliance, tendrils of darkness slithering out from shadowed crevices, through trees and rubble, filling every space that was once bathed in the sun's golden, dying rays, the activity diminished, and silence reigned.

The war had been won two weeks before. The Alliance had mourned and rejoiced, and then rejoiced and mourned, a pattern that would surely repeat in the many years to come. There was no gain without loss; no victory would ever remain unshadowed by pain.

Uchiha Sasuke knew that all too well.

Batches of shinobi had been immediately sent to their villages, the first ones to travel being important strategists or administrators that could handle their Kage's responsibilities while they remained behind to tie all the loose ends that held even the smallest possibility of causing another disaster as the one that had just ended.

The dead also left with them.

The medics stayed behind to watch over their patients. The Kage's right hands also stayed, to be of help in formulating treaties and handling negotiations, as well as creating better rules and regulations.

Uchiha Sasuke also stayed—because there was no one to tell him otherwise. With the war over and the last of his family dead and gone along with it, he had trouble finding another purpose for his life, trouble discovering another reason for which he should live.

Before the last enemy dropped dead at his feet, he'd thought he had everything set out for him. He'd undo everything wrong and then do everything right. He'd become Hokage and make sure nothing of what had happened to him would ever happen to anybody else again. Yes, that was what Uchiha Sasuke would do. Without a doubt, it was a form of revenge in itself, a way of gaining retribution for his clan; regardless of that, though, it was a purpose he had set for himself, and it gave his life a meaning.

Now, as he sat there, in the aftermath of a horrible fight that, in its last minutes, he hadn't thought he'd come out of alive, he saw what a foolish ambition it had been all along—and how foolish he, himself, had been for thinking that he could make it reality.

Being Hokage was not for him. He was completely undeserving of such a title. Besides, he saw the way people _looked_ at him. He saw the way their eyes narrowed, he saw the contempt in their expressions; he heard the whispers they exchanged behind his back. Turning against Uchiha Madara and fighting on Konoha's side hadn't done much to change the way they viewed him—as a traitor; as a criminal who always had hidden intentions; as a snake, dangerous and deceiving. And perhaps what bothered him more was that he couldn't _blame_ them. They were completely justified in having such conceptions about him. They were based on his own acts—terrible acts that could never be undone.

It was true that Sasuke was not the type of person to let himself be put down by other people. It was also true that when he proclaimed he wanted to become Hokage, he hadn't even considered what they might have to say about it. In his mind, he'd achieve his purpose with or without their support.

Perhaps the old him would have managed to do exactly that.

But, for some reason not even he could fully understand, Sasuke saw and acknowledged the fact that the person he was at the moment was not the Sasuke that had entered war almost a month before. He'd changed. _Something_ had changed him. And maybe it was the exhaustion that seemed to have settled deep in his young bones, but he was _tired_—so damn tired, of everything. He was tired of setting goals that only led to losing himself in the process. He didn't even know who he was anymore. And he was _tired_ of that—so sick and tired.

He didn't have the power to change the world, not when he'd failed his family and his team and his brother and every other person he'd met in between. He'd even failed himself. He wasn't capable of doing anything right.

And there were moments when he thought it would have been better for him to die in the war, with the satisfaction that he'd at least managed to stop Madara and thus became the tragic hero his brother had always wanted him to be—and if the latter was too far-fetched to happen, then at least he'd saved the people he still cared about in the world.

But maybe his death wasn't so far away, he thought as he raised his head to glance at the large, illuminated tent directly in his line of sight. Because, right there and in that very moment, four people were discussing his fate. And none of them was fond of him—with good reason.

With a sigh, the last Uchiha stood from the log he had been occupying and buried his hands into the pockets of his pants. For a moment, he simply stood there, enjoying the feel of the wind brushing against his face, filling his lungs with the scent of the forest, with the air that was, for the first time in so long, clean, without the nasty, depressing smell of blood or rotten flesh tainting it. Then, opening his eyes, he looked over at the tent once more.

His curiosity piqued, he decided there was not much harm he could do if he chose to overhear their meeting. He'd find out its conclusion, in any case, so he found it quite juvenile that they hadn't let him attend, in the first place.

Walking across camp, he tried to ignore the whispers and pointed glances from the still awake shinobi that huddled close to fires, drinking alcohol, mourning their losses or trying to liven up the atmosphere by telling jokes or random tales about the war that were only now starting to seem funny.

There was no protective sound barrier set over the tent—there was not even a genjutsu. The remaining people in camp were either important shinobi or soldiers that had no families waiting for them back home and who therefore traded their places in the batches that had already left with those that did and were eager to see them again. No one would want to create another conflict and ruin the fragile balance that had formed in the aftermath of the battle simply by listening in on a meeting whose content would be disclosed afterwards, in any case.

Taking advantage, Sasuke masked his chakra and did exactly that. Sounds of a muffled argument came through and it was only when he concentrated chakra to his refined hearing that he was able to distinguish actual words.

And he had the surprise of his life when he heard a familiar voice amidst all the strangers.

_"Uchiha Sasuke is, first and foremost, a shinobi of Konoha, so it is only normal that it is us who should decide what his fate shall be."_

Haruno Sakura. His ex-teammate and the only person who had ever told him that she loved him, except for his brother and his mother—though he could barely remember her anymore. The most surprising apparition during the war. The girl he'd knocked out and left on a bench. The woman he'd tried to kill and would have managed, had it not been for the timely intervention of his old comrades.

She was there. Inside. Where not even Naruto had been received. Taking his side. Defending him.

_"Foolish girl, do you even know what you're talking about?"_ the Raikage growled.

An image of Sakura cracking her knuckles the way he'd seen her do when she was angry came to his mind.

_"I do. That is the reason why I opened my mouth to speak. Uchiha Sasuke is a shinobi of Konoha who joined the Alliance and was given the all-clear to fight alongside us. He is here by his own choice and decision—and he will be returning to his village of origin along with everybody else."_

"Funny, huh?" a louder, closer voice broke through his concentration, and Sasuke turned his head to see Naruto standing beside him with his typical grin on his face. "I should have been the one in there, causing a ruckus. But they wouldn't let me in. The Raikage said that would be manipulation, so Baa-chan said I'd only make the situation worse." He shrugged. He had a carefree appearance, but Sasuke could see that he was trying to hide the one emotion he couldn't quite bring himself to feel—_worry_.

_"Konoha has unresolved issues with Uchiha Sasuke of its own and they should be given priority. Once we gather evidence from all sides involved in the conflict and give him a proper trial, you will be informed and will have a say in how matters go. But Uchiha Sasuke must return to Konoha."_

"I… kind of told her about the massacre,"Naruto said.

Sasuke turned to face him in surprise.

"She came to me, saying that Baa-chan would let her in to defend you. She couldn't do it herself, considering she's Kage and all and shouldn't be seen or heard taking your side when she should be impartial. Not that she's very fond of you, to begin with," he laughed. "Anyway, Sakura-chan came to me, telling me to give her everything that I have that could possibly help you. She said she couldn't outright pardon you, but she could bide you time. Nobody really wants you dead. Except the Raikage, he kind of has it against you."

Sasuke blinked languidly in surprise.

He'd though he had no purpose because his life was empty, a shell of what it should have been and never was and would probably never be. His life had always _been_ empty—because he'd always insisted it was and he'd only ever tried to fill it with ghosts of his past. But, he now wondered, had he ever _truly_ been alone?

Had Sakura ever truly left him?

His answer came at the crack of dawn, when he was awakened by a nudge to his side. He'd gone to sleep before the meeting ended, unable to handle the questions that whirled around his mind anymore.

Sakura stared at him from above, green eyes soft despite the tiredness swimming in them.

"Wake up," she said. "Time to head back home."


	17. insecurity

Sasuke stomped his way past the reception area in Konoha's General Hospital, hands in his pockets and a contemplative scowl on his face. He was a surprising sight, as he rarely entered the building on his own feet and without a certain blond-haired Hokage-to-be by his side, but if he noticed the speculative glances, he gave no indication of it.

Today, he was a man on a mission. And it was a well-known fact that, be them dangerous, diplomatic, or anything in between, Sasuke Uchiha's missions were always successful. An equally well-known fact was how unwilling he was to stain his record.

No. The last surviving Uchiha would leave the hospital with his goal accomplished and completely pleased with himself. There was simply no middle ground for him.

Even when his target was the one and only Haruno Sakura, who had always seemed to manage to slip through the cracks and do exactly the opposite of what he wanted or expected.

Standing alone in the ascending elevator, Sasuke frowned to himself.

Sakura had been avoiding him from the moment Team 7 put an end to the war and he reluctantly trailed behind them to return to the village. Although annoyed, he had deemed it normal and silently conceded to giving her time, not forgetting for a second everything that he had done and put her through. The harsh truth was, avoidance was one of the best-case scenarios in their situation, and he would be crazy not to prefer it over much more daunting possibilities.

Recently, though, sometime at the beginning of the week, Naruto had said something that had stuck with Sasuke, instantly gaining his attention then and constantly swirling in his mind since, until he decided enough was enough and that it was time to gain control over the situation. After all, if there was anything at all that his tumultuous past had taught him, it was that problems should never be avoided—they should be faced; head-on, without hesitation, and with the same motivation that backed him up in battles with his enemies: to destroy.

That was the reason why, as soon as he reached his old teammate's office, he turned the knob, without knocking, and entered the spacious room, his gaze immediately coming to rest on the person standing behind the large, mahogany desk dominating the enclosure.

Green eyes blinked in surprise, but the look in them clued him in on the fact that she had most likely sensed his presence long before he stalked inside the room.

A fleeting idea crossed his mind, about how that might be the reason why she was standing and fiddling with the scarf wrapped around her neck; his eyes narrowed, and he went straight to the point.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he demanded, without preamble, as he kicked the door shut behind him and invited himself inside, walking to the middle of the room and only stopping when they were separated just by the desk and the two chairs arranged neatly in front of it.

Sakura frowned, throwing him a strange look. Her hands, small and deceiving, judging by the amount of power they hid and the damage they could cause, finished unwrapping the colourful scarf from around her lithe neck—the neck his hand had been wrapped almost completely around, he remembered with a painful pang in his chest—and draped it on the back of the leather seat in which he was sure she spent at least half of her long days.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, with a small, confused smile. "I haven't been avoiding you, Sasuke-kun. I just got here."

"Yes, you have," he insisted, regardless. "This isn't news. You've been avoiding me all along, since I came back."

Taking a seat, Sakura shook her head. "What are you saying?" she repeated.

The Uchiha took a step forward. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," he snapped, his patience as short as it had been, he was sure, from the day that he was born. "You don't train with me, you don't talk to me, you don't…" He stopped, catching himself in time. But he knew what he'd been about to say, and by the look on her face, she'd figured it out, as well.

He heaved a sigh.

Between training sessions with Team 7, dinners at Ichiraku's, and the odd mission they were assigned together, Sakura had made it clear that she wasn't particularly proud of the person she had been back when they were genin. Sasuke still had moments when he wondered why. She may have not been the strongest of the team, but she'd always been so warm, so open, so willing to help; she'd always carried her heart on her sleeve and never missed a single opportunity. What could she possibly have to regret? Yet she never enjoyed talking about their younger days and displayed clear discomfort at the mere mentioning even of the good times they'd had together. She'd smile at Naruto, who was usually the one to bring up such subjects, and he'd see the nostalgia in her expressive eyes, but she'd be guarded, protected; as if there were unpleasant memories she always had to swallow down in order to enjoy the beautiful ones; as if every reference to the past was like a bittersweet pill she only took for the sake of her team.

Sasuke had once come to the conclusion that maybe what she hated was the fact that she had dotted on _him_. The person he had become—the person that he had been all along and that she had refused to see—certainly did not deserve an ounce of those affections. But, with each and every time he saw the warmth in her green eyes when she looked at him, he had trouble conserving that hypothesis.

Standing up, Sakura made sure not to meet his gaze as she breezed past him, all skinny jeans and high heels, picking up a stack of files that had been left on a small table near the doorway.

Sasuke's eyes neatly followed. Secretly, he loved seeing her dressed down, out of her uniform or training gear. And secretly, he also hated that he could do nothing to show it.

"Naruto told me about Obito's genjutsu."

He was attentive enough to notice the way she stiffened in response, but she quickly recovered, returning to her seat behind the desk.

"…He did, did he?" she muttered softly, still avoiding his gaze.

But Sasuke was not about to be deterred by that. "Aa," he confirmed. "He told me that…" He buried his hands in his pockets and shifted awkwardly on his feet; suddenly, it was difficult to find his words. "That I was different there. That I… gave you flowers and asked you out and…"

"Yes," she admitted, opening a manila envelope and shaking out its contents. "You were. You did."

Sasuke swallowed. He recognized the uncomfortable position he was forcing her into, but he wished she would just _meet_ his eyes. Was this the way she'd felt every time he refused to look into hers in the past?

"He told me that… that might be the reason why… you're avoiding me."

Finally, the pinkette looked up. She seemed to finally realize what he meant by 'avoidance'—the fact that she had stopped displaying the affection she had once completely draped him into—and was genuinely surprised at the fact that he had noticed and that he had cared enough to bring it up.

His hands clenched into fists.

"He said that… that you thought everything was the complete opposite and…"

'_She doesn't want to talk about it because she doesn't want to admit how much it affected her. She says it was just a genjutsu, that she's a big girl, that she can handle that and more—you know the drill; you've heard it before, too. But she's Sakura-chan, and everything that has to do with you affects her way too much. Back there, we figured it was an opposite world from ours. Damn it, Sasuke, do something before she's completely convinced you hate her here. Sakura-chan's stubborn, once an idea's in her head, you can't get it out! Don't let her convince herself, or you'll lose her forever.'_

"It wasn't," she said, glancing up at him for a quick second. "It wasn't the complete opposite—at all. It was just… different." She shrugged. "And it's not what you think. You…" She shook her head, eyes still glued on a printed paper. "You did to me what you did to every pretty girl in town. Gave me flowers and tried to woo me. So, if you think I'm hung up on the person you were there, that it hurts to see you now, or whatever possibility Naruto shared with you—don't worry. If anything, that genjutsu served to let me understand that you'd never want anything to do with me. Even in an alternate dimension." With a sigh, she stood, taking a thick file with her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Sasuke, I have patients to check up on. I—"

He stopped her as she tried to brush past him, grabbing her arm and abruptly turning her to face him, green eyes clashing with onyx for the first time since she began talking.

"Don't be stupid," he spat, his patience running thin. "They _were_ opposites. Because here, in this world, you're the only one I care about."

* * *

><p>AN: Now that exams have finally, _blissfully_ finished, I'm returning to my attempt to write more one-shots/drabbles and post without stopping to edit every last word and then edit it _again_. I'm afraid I'm a bit OCD in that matter, so I'm trying to correct it, for the sake of speedier writing!

Also, I've been wanting to write a Road To Ninja inspired fic for a while, so here it is!

If you have any prompts, please feel free to say so! :)


	18. paint

He entered his house that morning to the irritating smell of fresh paint and a familiar chakra signature pulsing steadily in the air.

He scowled.

How many times would he have to say it until she finally understood? How many times would he have to _prove_ it? For how much longer would Sasuke have to go out of his way to push her out of his life? To open her eyes and have her see that there was simply no place for her in it?

No, he decided. Haruno Sakura would finally learn a lesson she should have learned years and years before—and she would learn it today.

"What are you doing here?" he growled as he stopped in the doorway of his living room, directing a glare towards the only occupant of the leather couch.

It was, quite literally, only a decade of training that ensured his mask didn't fall once the sight of her actually registered in his consciousness.

She was clad in a pretty red dress with flowers printed on it in a delicate pattern, with simple white flats and a small bag slung over her shoulder. Her pastel pink hair was caught in a messy bun with stray strands escaping the hold to brush gently against her bare shoulders, while green eyes—wide, and innocent, and hopeful—were staring right at him, displaying no nervousness whatsoever over the storm that was probably unfolding into his.

"I don't want you here."

"So you said," was her answer. "I didn't listen. Naruto told me you're redecorating. I stopped by to help."

"I _told_ you," he hissed, bristling. "I don't need your help and I don't want you—"

"Have you picked out the colours yet?" she interrupted serenely, as if he hadn't even been _speaking_, much less attempting to verbally kick her out, and Sasuke's eyes widened in unpleasant surprise. "I was thinking maybe you should change them. Choose something different—brighter, perhaps, but not necessarily. I can imagine that you'll say no to electric fuchsia, but white and navy? A bit too formal. This house should feel like a home, not an office. So, I don't know—browns, greens…? We could swing by the supply store and see the range of colours they have. What do you say?"

Sasuke blinked—once, twice, in surprise; then annoyance flooded his body with a sudden pump, and he growled. "I say—"

"Listen," she cut him off him again, and he wanted to _scream_. But then she took a step closer.

He shut his mouth and raised an eyebrow.

That was new. Sakura, approaching him physically—willingly and without trembling in fear.

"I know we didn't have the best start when you came back to the village. I… I shouldn't have acted the way I did, and I apologised for that. I was under the influence of a bunch of… not so pleasant emotions—you of all the people should know how that feels, what it does to you. But I'm good now. I've hurt you, I know, but you've hurt me, too. It's not an excuse, but maybe it's a way we can put the past where it belongs—behind us. I want to be your friend. And you've told me—once, twice, even more—that you don't. But I'm not about to let you push me out of your life without actually knowing me first. Because you don't." She shrugged. "The sooner you let me in, the sooner you can kick me out if you find out you really don't like me."

"I _don't_ like you," he reflexively spat.

Sakura shook her head. "You don't know that," she insisted, and he sensed a slight irritation in her tone that told him she wasn't fooled by his charade and wasn't pleased with it, either. "Stop saying that you do—it's offensive to both of us."

He glared, but once a moment had passed without a retort or a sign of protest from his part, she smiled in triumph.

"Alright. So, as I was saying, we should go check out the colours they have rather than buy the same ones you've always used. It's time for a change, isn't it? Also," she said, turning around and lifting a large bag whose existence he hadn't noticed onto the couch. "I brought paper to cover the furniture and the floors and protection for ourselves and our poor clothes!"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at the items she held in her hands on display. "You stole scrubs and gloves so we can paint my house?" His tone clearly implied she was slightly deranged, and he didn't bother to hide it.

Sakura grinned. "See? Perks of being friends with the head of the hospital."

He snorted.

Something inside him, somewhere deep in a region that he had not accessed in a long, long time, stopped him from protesting and forced him to finally give in.

* * *

><p><span>SasuSaku Month 2014<span>: July 1st—_the smell of fresh paint_

A/N: Pretty sure this is the shortest one-shot I have written in a LONG time and I'm pretty proud of myself for that! Will try to do as many SS month prompts as possible! For those of you who gave me prompts as well, thank you and don't worry, I will write them soon! :)

Let me know what you thought!


	19. phobia

As yet another minute passed in complete and utter silence, Sasuke resisted the urge to glance to the side at the person walking steadily beside him. He wasn't the most social human being on the planet, but even _he_ could feel the awkwardness swimming languidly, with no intention to leave, in the damp, stale air trapped inside the underground tunnel.

As strange as it might sound, considering their history, he had to admit this wasn't a situation that he'd ever imagined himself in while in the presence of his old female teammate. Over the years, there had been a lot of feelings thrown back and forth between the two of them, one more intense than the other, but awkwardness certainly hadn't been one of them.

He told himself it was probably the new element of it that made him uneasy, but he remained unable to fully convince himself of the fact.

"How much longer do you think he'll need?" her soft voice reached his ears, interrupting the steady _drip-drip-drip_ coming from somewhere behind them.

He shrugged. "A couple of minutes, perhaps."

They fell silent.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm tired," was her answer. Another long moment passed before she added, "Running the hospital is hell."

Sasuke blinked in surprise. "You're running the hospital?"

She gave him a weird look. "You didn't know that?"

He scoffed. "How was I supposed to know? You never tell me anything." He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. He sounded bitter, he realized—and that was wrong; how could it not be, when he didn't actually feel that way?

"I thought Naruto had told you."

Her comeback made him grit his teeth in annoyance, and silence once again descended upon them.

It seemed as though the only times they talked was when they were sent on missions together, and those were rare occurrences in themselves. Each member of the old Team 7 had become invaluable; put together, they created a powerhouse—and, nowadays, few missions were dangerous enough to require that.

Still, there was plenty of downtime. There were plenty training sessions. He spent quite a healthy amount of time in the hospital for a shinobi of his caliber. Nothing changed the fact that she was always too busy for him.

And he would _understand_. Truly, he would. He, of all the people, knew exactly how it was to have your days packed from beginning to end—especially after enduring Tsunade's probation from the pits of hell. But despite that, Sakura always found time to meet and catch up with Naruto—and if that wasn't annoying, Sasuke honestly didn't know what was. Especially after _he_ had found time to apologize and ask for forgiveness—forgiveness that she had granted, but apparently not entirely meant.

"It's not true," she said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's not true that I don't tell you anything. I don't know how you reached that conclusion."

"We never see each other, Sakura," he replied tightly.

"That's only because I'm busy, Sasuke."

"You always meet up with Naruto." The accusation left his lips before he could stop it, bringing along another moment of silence.

Sakura sighed before speaking, "Naruto… He _accepts_ me, Sasuke. He tries to understand me. He doesn't criticise me if he doesn't manage. He doesn't judge me. I have very little free time." She shrugged. "You can't exactly blame me for choosing to spend it with someone who is easy to deal with."

"Oh, so now I'm too complicated for you?" he snorted.

"Maybe you are," she answered.

Sasuke huffed a breath and turned his attention back to the darkened tunnel in front of him. Naruto was somewhere upstairs, dealing with the luxurious club's owners and patrons. Once he gave them the all-clear, Sasuke and Sakura would be able to slip inside the building undetected, grab the upper hand, and release the girls that were supposedly held there against their will and forced into prostitution. Then the mission would be officially over, and Sakura would be free to avoid him as much as she wanted.

"Listen, Sasuke…" she started with a heavy sigh. "We've never really gotten along, have we? Despite everything I used to tell myself. You've always found me annoying. I still respect and admire you and I still want to be your friend, I can't deny that, but… but I just don't think it's possible anymore. At least not without me ending up hurt."

They had been advancing through the tunnel at a slow pace, but upon hearing her words, Sasuke stopped dead in his tracks, red eyes searching green in the darkness. "Do you really think I would hurt you again?"

"I don't know," was her simple answer, and it cut right through him, cleaner than a scalpel.

Of course, he told himself. What had he expected? This Sakura was different than the girl he had once known. She was older, more mature. She was honest—so awfully honest, a type of honest that could only come out of complete confidence in oneself. And the truth hurt; no matter who it involved, the truth in Sasuke's life always hurt.

"Naruto should be done in a few minutes," he said. "Are you ready?"

Whether she saw the change in subject as natural or as forced, she skilfully accepted it. "Yes," she answered; from the corner of his eye, he noticed her swiping at her right shoulder. "I—_AHH_!"

Her scream resounded through the entire tunnel, bouncing off the walls in a loud echo, and Sasuke all but drew out his sword to deal with the enemy—or rather, he _would_ have, had she not suddenly jumped in front of him and attached herself to his neck.

"Sakura—"

"A _spider_!" she wailed, such a contrast to the calm, confident woman of only a minute before, burying her face into his shoulder. "Kill it, Sasuke! _Kill_ it!"

The Uchiha glanced to the side to see an admittedly quite large spider crawling rapidly in the opposite direction, probably as frightened by Sakura's loud mouth as she was by his many legs. A quick scan revealed no distinct markings that would class him as poisonous or even aggressive.

Most of the tension left his body with the knowledge. "It's just a spider, Sakura."

"Just a spider?" she spat, pulling back to look up at him. "That thing is _huge_!"

"Was," he supplied helpfully, extracting himself from her tight embrace. "It's gone."

"Ugh," she groaned, crossing her arms over her chest and muttering to herself, "I should have never agreed to climb down here. I should be the one doing the undercover work up there, not a loudmouthed hothead like Naruto!"

Try as he might, Sasuke was unable to suppress a smirk.

She noticed in an instant. "Don't laugh, jackass!" she demanded, punching him in the chest. "It's not fucking funny! It's a phobia!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes while at the same time rubbing at the spot where she had hit him. "It's not a phobia, Sakura. You're just scared of spiders. A lot of people are."

"Then why do you find it _funny_?" she hissed, green eyes crackling with anger in the dim light.

He shrugged. "You know. Head of the hospital. ANBU captain. Grown woman that forgives but doesn't forget. Fear of spiders. It's an interesting combination, that's all." The declaration came out as a mixture of amusement, bitterness, and regret, and that wasn't lost on either of them.

Sakura didn't have time to formulate a reply, just like Sasuke didn't have time to change the subject. The signal from Naruto came, and they both sprung into action, the moment forgotten in the blink of an eye, pushed to the back of their minds as their mission once again took priority.

Late that night, after all was said and done, and Team 7 was handing the case over to the local police, who finally had the necessary proof to take the owners of the establishment into custody, Sasuke stopped in the doorway next to Sakura.

Silence filled the space between them as they watched Naruto becoming, as usual, over-involved in what was left of the mission.

This time, Sasuke was the one to break it. "Do you think… you could ever bring yourself to trust me again?"

Sakura glanced at him briefly, before she sighed and returned her gaze to the scene unfolding in front of her, arms crossed over her chest. "I thought the way I jumped at you for help with that spider was pretty self-explanatory."

He blinked in surprise.

"You didn't kill it, though."

A second passed before she once again turned her head to look at him, and realisation started its slow descent onto him.

"Earn it, Sasuke," she told him. "Even if you already have it. Because that's the only way I'll ever willingly give it to you again."

* * *

><p><span>SasuSaku Month 2014<span>: July 3rd—_phobia_


	20. piece of mind

Sasuke had almost reached the middle of his scroll on fire-based techniques when he heard his front door slam open, then closed, followed by an array of hurried, heavy footsteps and two different voices that were loud enough to carry up to the first floor of the mansion, where his bedroom was located, and yet not quite clear enough for him to decipher the words that were being used.

He recognised Naruto's low timbre, picked up the nervousness in his voice, but the blond had to be arguing with someone, and as far as he knew, he also didn't wear high-heels.

The Uchiha frowned, sitting up straighter on his mattress while carefully watching his bedroom door.

He absolutely _loathed_ the chakra restraints Tsunade had forced onto his wrists, and the fact that he wasn't able to train properly was only one of the reasons why; another was that he found it incredibly hard to sense and recognize chakra signatures unless he was closely familiarised with them.

But he trusted Naruto, and he trusted his abilities to defend himself even more—chakra or no chakra at his disposal.

A mere second later, the door slammed open, swinging around in a wide arc until it hit the wall so hard it caused a bit of paint to chip off—and in stomped no one other than Haruno Sakura, clad in high-heels and a pretty dress, and with her green eyes blazing with fury.

"How _dare_ you?" she demanded without preamble.

Sasuke blinked.

"No!" she snapped, glancing briefly in Naruto's direction; the man had hurried in the room after her and had been caught with his mouth open, no doubt about to speak. "You shut up! You never say a _single_ word when you have to and you're not going to speak now!"

Her attention returned to him, and his brows furrowed at the intense mixture of anger and pain swimming in the depths of her expressive eyes.

"I'll keep this short, because I'd hate to take up too much of your time. _Those_ people—" she pointed behind him, towards the village, "Those people there, that you obviously couldn't give less than a damn about, those people whose invitation you've cast aside _so_ easily it almost makes me wonder what you're made of—those people have been risking their lives for you for years! They risked their lives for you when we were genin, on missions and exams and assignments of every kind. The risked their lives for you when you ran away to train with that slithering snake because this—us, your family, your home—was too fucking _weak_ for you. They risked their lives for years and years, trying to bring you back, trying to pull you out of your darkness even when you not only ignored the hands that reached out for you, but slapped them away and turned your sword on their owners.

They always _spoke_ to you before initiating a single harmful movement, they ignored your presence even when they knew you were there on more than one occasion, they turned between themselves for advice when they should have gone straight to the Hokage and _reported_ you. They risked their lives, their jobs, and their reputations for you. And then, in that war that was that was partially _your_ fucking fault, after everything you did to us, after everything you caused, after all the people you killed, Sasuke, or whose death you inadvertently brought with your careless, selfish actions—after _everything_, they welcomed you back with open arms. They fought _alongside_ you. They protected your back when you were too busy watching your front. They _died_ for you.

At your trial, they stood in the witness stand and spoke of the person they thought you could become, rather than the person you actually are; the person they wanted to believe was in you somewhere. They defended you even when they were under no other obligation than to tell _the truth_. Some of them stood there and _lied_ to cover up your mistakes or minimise the damage of your reckless actions. They got you out of _prison_, you fucking _bastard_. And all that, to have you do _what_? Sit here, all fucking day, locked up in this mansion with the ghosts of your past? Sit here and real scrolls to learn techniques you'll never have the chance to use because you'll never actually bother to win Tsunade's trust back? Stay here until the world forgets about you? Is _that_ how you repay them?"

By then, tears had gathered in her eyes. Naruto was standing beside her, watching her with a worried expression on his face. But he wasn't speaking up, and he wasn't jumping to his—supposedly—best friend's defense. And why would he? Sasuke thought. Sakura was scary when she was angry, he'd learned that during the war; but she was also speaking nothing but the truth.

"Let me tell you something, Sasuke. I've _known_ you were selfish. I've known it all along. I've known you were arrogant and self-sufficient and that you thought everybody was beneath you. And maybe we are. Maybe _we_ are the ones that have to open our eyes and see the message you've been trying to spell out for us all along: that you really _don't_ need us. That you would have done just fine—and possibly even better—without us. They everything we've ever done or tried to do for you was in vain. And keep on acting the way you are—yes, keep doing it; keep on doing this, and I guarantee you that we will.

But I'll tell you what—right now, you're going to get out of that bed and out of this house and you're going to go where you've been invited and you're going to stay—in a fucking corner, for all I care—until people leave, and only when the last of us has gone home will you do the same. Do you hear me? And I don't care—I don't _fucking_ care, Naruto!"

The blond immediately snapped his mouth shut.

"I don't care if he's not ready and not willing or just doesn't know how. I don't _care_. Because, you know what, Sasuke? I had been ready to _kill_ you that day. I had made up my mind that I was going to kill the person I loved most in this world and I was ready and willing to live with that, even knowing that killing you would have meant killing all that was left inside me." Her voice cracked, but she continued. "I would have died with you, you bastard, and it would have been by my own hand. I didn't know what my life would be like without you in it, without anything else but the knowledge that I had been the one to take the light out of your eyes—all I knew was that it would be horrible; it would be hell. But still, I would have done it—for _you_. Because I couldn't stand to watch you become the monster you've been hating all your life. I couldn't stand the thought of you, somewhere in the future, looking into a mirror and hating what you saw. I would have rather wished and whisked that upon myself.

And if _I_ could do that, you're going to be able to come to this damn party and look at all the people that saved you in the eye. And if it doesn't change anything, if you still won't give a shit then, if you still won't care about anybody other than yourself, _fine_. Consider the permission to waste your life away alone granted. I don't give a fuck anymore. But you're going to get out of the house tonight and face all the people that still do. This moron beside me included. I hope you have a nice life, Sasuke."

With that, she swallowed back the sob that was obviously trying to escape her throat and brushed away the tear that had slipped down her cheek, turned, and left, the sound of her heels stomping against the wooden floorboards echoing in the cold, empty manor.

Naruto groaned. "See, asshole? I _told_ you! I _told_ you to come! Look at what you caused now!"

But Sasuke nearly didn't hear him. He was too preoccupied processing the six words he had never thought he would hear.

_I don't give a fuck anymore._

…And secretly hoping there was a way he could make her take them back.

* * *

><p><span>SasuSaku Month 2014<span>: July 4th—_there was no warning _

A/N: It started as being related to the prompt and turned out not so much. Oh, well.


	21. concern

She tripped over her own feet as she stepped past the front door, causing Sasuke to instinctively reach out and grab her upper arm, stabilizing her.

"What are you doing?" he chided.

He'd known Sakura was clumsy by nature, but the tendencies in question had been somewhat knocked out of her by her shinobi training as well as the finesse that was required from a medic.

Now, she only tripped, fell, and crashed breakable items to the floor when she was hurt, tired, or drunk.

And there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that told him the latter might be the case tonight.

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath, before straightening and heading to the couch, flopping down on it as soon as she reached it. Almost immediately, she bent over to undo the strap on her high-heels, silky pink hair sliding forward, over her shoulders, with the movement.

They'd been at a party organized by no one other than her best friend, a certain blonde-haired kunoichi with a loud mouth that Sasuke had come very close to hating in the months that he had been dating the pinkette. It was a reunion of sorts, he'd gathered, a tradition started before the war that he could no longer escape, not with Naruto as a friend and with Sakura as a fiancée.

It had been nice enough this time around, though, he had to admit. He wasn't quite able to put his finger on the reason why. Perhaps it was the warm, balmy weather—not too hot, not too cold. Perhaps it was the fact that they had been outside, seeing as being confined into a restaurant and surrounded by twelve loud idiots was not his idea of a perfect night out. Perhaps it was the fact that the conversation had finally, blissfully drifted away from where it had been the month before and nearly every day since—from his and Sakura's recent engagement, from the rock on her finger, from their future wedding. Perhaps it was also the fact that they had left relatively earlier than usual.

The possibilities were many. Whichever one was real, he did not know.

"I'm too tired," Sakura confessed, kicking off her heels and bringing her legs up onto the couch, massaging them gently. "I shouldn't have drunk that glass of wine, either."

Sasuke watched her carefully, almost suspiciously, as he moved across the room. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Annoying as it was, nowadays, he found it very hard to tell. She was always so perfectly put together, and tonight was no exception. She had on a patterned, silky dress that flowed down to the middle of her thighs and a glittering, silver necklace that ran down the valley of her breasts. Her small feet had been encased, up until only a minute before, in strappy sandals that made her shapely legs seem even longer than they already were. Her pink hair was styled effortlessly in a bun on top of her head, with strands falling and brushing against her cheeks, forehead and shoulders. Her lips were tinted a glossy pink; her eyes were darkened by green eye-shadow. Her skin was as flawless as always, but under all the make-up, he found it impossible to see her dark circles.

But she'd been at the hospital since the night before. She'd completed her shift, was supposed to come home in the morning, but as usual, something interfered and she was unable to. She was strong, she was skilled, she was needed. There was always something someone requested her help with—be it at the hospital, at the Hokage Tower, out on the field, or literally anywhere else.

She didn't spend much time home.

"I'm fine," she said with a sigh, leaning back, sinking into the soft plush of the couch before repeating, "Just tired."

Sasuke heaved a sigh of his own. "When's the last time you ate?"

A faint smile touched upon her lips. They were the words she heard from him the most, except for the traditional, _"You're annoying."_

"This morning," she replied sincerely. "But don't worry. I'm not hungry. I'm just sleepy."

"That's ridiculous," he scoffed. "You're not going to bed without eating first."

"Hmm," Sakura made a small sound of agreement in the back of her throat as she settled deeper into the cushions, snuggling into a corner, stretching her legs out in front of her and closing her eyes contently.

Sasuke suppressed a groan.

Starting his way down the hallway without another word, he walked into the bedroom they shared, and then into the attached bathroom. A hot bath had always been something that relaxed Sakura, even when she was in the worst of states, and if there was something that she needed at the moment perhaps even a little more than food in her system, that was a couple of minutes of relaxation.

Returning to the living room, he slipped his arms underneath her small body and easily lifted her up, jolting her from her light doze and causing her to gasp.

"What are you doing?" she asked, drowsily, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Sasuke frowned as he carried her carefully down the hallway, thinking that she was lighter than the last time he'd held her.

"You'll take a bath while I make you something to eat," he answered firmly, setting her down on her feet once they were in the bathroom, holding firmly onto her small waist for a moment to ensure that she wouldn't fall over.

She smiled tiredly up at him. "Thank you."

"Don't fall asleep in the tub," he warned as he left the room, catching her small giggle.

It wouldn't be the first time that happened.

Thankfully, he was able to hear her approaching footsteps right as he finished dishing food onto two plates. She appeared, dressed in a black, silky nighty with hot pink, lace trimming, with her face clean of make-up and her hair pinned in a wet pile on top of her head.

"It smells delicious," she told him as she curled up on the couch.

Sasuke conformed and brought the plates into the living room, setting them on the coffee table.

She groaned as she leaned back into her seat. "This feels heavenly," she added. "I'd forgotten how good it felt to have time to actually _enjoy_ being clean—not just fall asleep right after it."

Sasuke couldn't help but smirk at her remark, because it certainly wasn't as if she wouldn't have already been into a deep, deep sleep, had it not been for him and his insistence that she had a proper meal beforehand.

"Here," he said, handing her a plate of warm rice and chicken. "Eat up—and then you can go to sleep."

"Mmm," she moaned as her lips closed around her fork for the first bite.

Sasuke settled beside her with his own plate in his hands and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table.

"Wake me up tomorrow? I'm starting to hate the sound of my alarm."

"No," was his firm answer.

After a moment of silence, he turned to see a frown on her face.

"Why not?"

"I'm not waking you up on your day off, Sakura," he declared, speaking in a tone that suggested she was stupid for even considering it, not to mention saying it out loud. "You need sleep."

"I _will_ sleep," she countered. "But—"

"But nothing," he snapped. "You'll wake up when you'll wake up. You need to slow down and just rest, woman."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke saw her move, leaning forward and setting her plate on the table. With a frown, he turned his head, about to complain, when she suddenly shifted closer and pressed her lips to his in a sweet, chase kiss.

He watched her with wide eyes as she pulled away.

She smiled softly at him.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For taking care of me. I've gone without anybody doing that for too long… and I'd almost forgotten how good it felt."

For a moment, he was silent.

Then, resisting the urge to clear his throat, he motioned towards the coffee table.

"Eat your food."

Sakura giggled and reached out for it. "Yes, Sir!"

Sasuke wasn't the best fiancé. He knew that. He hadn't been the best teammate or the best boyfriend, either. He was rather socially awkward and a bit too cold for the type of companion that Sakura needed—and deserved, if he were completely honest. He didn't bring her flowers. He didn't take her out on many dates. He didn't make a big fuss out of her birthday. He didn't even show much affection.

But—a trait ingrained so deeply into his being—he was protective. Sometimes overprotective, he was sure she would say if prompted. He ensured that she got as much sleep as possible. He dragged her out of the hospital when she'd been there for too long. He drew her hot baths when she needed to relax and offered her the best comfort that he could when she was in distress. He cooked her food, and he made sure she actually ate it. He covered her up in the middle of the night, once she'd kicked the blankets off, which, for some reason or another, she ended up doing more often than not. He picked her up from work when her shifts ran too late and he knew she was too chakra-depleted to properly defend herself should something happen.

No, Sasuke wasn't the best fiancé—not by far. But he tried—so very hard.

Because she simply made him _want_ to be.

He didn't know how to love her—not yet. No one had ever taught him, and perhaps more importantly, he couldn't remember how it felt to be loved by someone other than her, and Sakura loved so fully and completely that he wasn't sure he had it in him to follow her example. But, slowly, with her help, he was _learning_.

Because, if there was something that he did know for sure about his existence, it was that she was the most precious person in it, and that, if, at some point in the future, the need arose for him to give his life for her, he would do it without a single moment of hesitation.


	22. nightmares

He woke up in the middle of the night, panting, blood still tainting his hands, his clothes, every available inch of his skin, seeping so deeply into his being until it trickled into his very soul and permanently marked it.

For a long moment, all he could see was red; all he could hear was the pained screams of his family and the harshness of his panicked breaths; all he could feel was the warm, sticky substance coating his hands, a foreboding clue of what was to come, his future being painting right in front of his eyes—a sick, twisted image that he wanted nothing more but to escape, in any way and by any means, as soon as possible.

The darkness seemed to swallow him whole, like it did every night. And he prepared to give up, to turn himself in, to allow it to wrap him in its cold tendrils and take him back to that torturous day in his past—but something stopped him. A gentle touch cut cleanly through the fog in his mind, shaking him awake and bringing him, slowly, into reality.

The sound of his heavy breaths continued to echo in his ears, but the screams disappeared, and the blood washed away. As his focus gradually returned, he was able to hear the soft pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof and against the windows. He was sitting up in bed, the darkness of the room permeated only by the dim lamp sat on one of the nightstands, the cotton sheets tangled around his legs, his elbows resting on his knees as his body curled up into itself, his hands fisting his damp hair tightly.

Sakura was behind him. One of her thighs was pressed against the small of his back, her upper body leaning against the length of his right arm. Her hands were on his shoulders, rubbing back and forth in a soothing manner while her lips whispered soft words of comfort in his ear. Her scent, a mixture of brown sugar and vanilla, soon enveloped him, wrapping him in a blanket of warmth and security that, in that moment, he needed more desperately than his very next breath.

Slowly, his grip on his hair loosened. Slowly, his breathing calmed, his panic receding along with the tension in his muscles.

He leaned into her. Burying his head into the crook of her neck, his fists clenching into the sides of her silky nightgown, her scent grew stronger, more potent, and the warmth of her small, pliable body chased the last tendrils of darkness away.

"It's alright," she whispered, the words finally starting to register in his clouded mind, while one of her hands ran gently through his hair. "It's alright. You're alright. I'm here, Sasuke-kun. I'm here."

"I…" he croaked, but stopped and swallowed thickly. His hands loosened the grip they had on her nightgown and slid down to the small of her back instead, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, bringing her closer. "I…"

"Shh," she hushed him, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I know. It's alright."

A full minute passed in silence as he basked in the understanding that she had always offered him.

"I…" Swallowing, he tried again, feeling as if he owned her an explanation even when he knew she would never ask for one. "…No matter what I do… I try, but I can't…" Growling, he pulled away, his hands once again finding their way into his hair. "I can't forget. I can't… I can't stop these nightmares, Sakura. I keep—I keep seeing the blood—I—"

"Shh," she murmured, immediately finding his hands and covering them with hers. They were soft, small, and fragile, such a startling contrast to his own—and they grounded him; they kept him sane. "It's alright. I know it's hard. I know you're hurting, but…" Leaning in, she caught his eye. "I'm here for you."

Gently, she grasped one of his hands and eased it out of his tangled hair, moving it to a different location. He felt silk beneath his fingers, and he opened his eyes to find them resting against her covered abdomen, the bump that, he knew, had been there for a little over a week, hidden almost completely by the loose cut of her nightgown.

The material was white. Pure white. Unblemished. Unspotted. Without a single speck of red on it.

"We're _both_ here for you," she told him. "And we'll always be here for you, I promise. We'll take care of you. You'll take care of us. We'll look after each other, alright?"

His eyes slid up to meet hers, almost in awe at the way she always seemed to be reading his mind.

Sakura bent to press a kiss to his forehead. "They will go away—the nightmares. I promise. They won't haunt you forever. And, until then… you have us. Alright?"

His nod was automatic.

"Good," she whispered. "Come here."

Lying down, she coaxed him along, letting him settle close to her warm body, letting him wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face into her neck, letting him hold her as tightly as he wanted, as tightly as was needed for his muscles to relax and the idea that she could be taken away from him to slip away from the clutches of his consciousness.

She was there. Yes, she was there for him.

And, as long as that remained true, there was nothing in this world—past, present, or future—that he wouldn't be able to face.

* * *

><p><span>SasuSaku Month 2014<span>: July 13th—_drowning_

A/N: I'm not entirely pleased with this, but I wanted to post it, so here it is!_  
><em>


	23. alcohol (1 out of 3)

When Sasuke awakened that early summer morning, his memory returned to him in pieces. There were flashes of light and surges of sound, little chunks of alcohol-affected judgment and resulting actions sliding forward in no good order.

Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position and immediately brought his hands up to cradle his aching head. It wasn't long until he regained enough feeling in his body to tell that he was naked beneath the light blanket covering him.

Memories started returning with a vengeance.

Her seductive smirk. Her provoking wink. The little black dress that hugged her perfect body. The heels that practically screamed at him to act. The smoky eyes, so different from what he was usually met with, and yet so similar at the same time. The full, luscious red lips that nothing short of begged to be kissed. The messy hair that only served to cause him to wonder how much different it would look by the time his hands were finished running through it.

_Sakura._

The details of the night itself were hazy, and a part of him was quick to let him know he should hate himself for that.

He remembered the feel of her skin beneath his hands, flawless and so incredibly soft. Her body had been small against his own, thin and short, with all the right curves in all the right places, her flesh tight but supple. He'd bit on her delicious lips more than once. Gripped the silky locks of pink hair in his fists. Carried her around the house, with her long, lean legs wrapped tightly around his waist, slammed her into more than one wall on their way to his bedroom. She'd been wild and passionate, clearly uninhibited due to the alcohol that she, herself, had consumed, and, for the few hours that they had rolled around under his sheets, had managed to reduce his world, usually so dark and lonely, to only one living, breathing human being.

No one else had ever even come close to that.

Pulling his hands away from his face, he reopened his eyes and tried to deal with the harsh sunlight as a man would, no groans and growls involved.

He soon failed, but since he was currently feeling the unaltered aftershocks of a heavy night out, he forgave himself.

He glanced to the side. The bedsheets were rumpled, one pillow had been thrown to the floor, the blanket that was covering him up to his waist tangled around his legs and half hanging off the bed. The door to the attached bathroom was wide open, as was the main one that spilled into the dark hallway. Part of his clothes were in his sight, lying on the floor, his pants and boxers thrown almost all the way to the other side of the room; he vaguely remembered losing any other items on the way there—in his living room, on the stairs, in the hallway.

Sakura's clothes were nowhere to be found. After a quick burst of chakra from his part, he concluded that neither was Sakura.

She'd fled, he quickly concluded—and realized, with a strange sense of unease, that he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

It hadn't been planned and, surely, he wouldn't have known how to deal with the morning after awkwardness that was certain to ensue. With the headache currently thrumming steadily behind his temples, he thought there was every chance that he would have been harsh—harsher than she, or anyone, for that matter, probably deserved. He thought there was every chance he would have snapped at her, as if the entire situation was her fault, as if there was anybody to blame at all and any reason to be blamed for, in the first place. The night had been a mistake, there was no doubt about that, but mistakes happened, and the truth was that he didn't see Sakura nearly enough anymore for the resulting awkwardness to seep in between them and ruin their relationship—because they didn't really have a relationship to ruin.

Still, though… Sasuke wouldn't have expected his old, pink-haired teammate to be the type of person to tiptoe out of the bedroom after a one-night-stand.

But he reminded himself that the Sakura he'd once known was long gone, and that he shouldn't base any new judgments on previous, erroneous familiarity.

As predicted, he didn't see her for weeks and weeks afterwards. They had no missions together and he had no need to visit the hospital. At the beginning, he couldn't help but wonder if she was avoiding him. Time passed, however, and he realized nothing was actually out of the ordinary—nothing but the way his mind was working, constantly trying to find ways that led back to _her_. A moment came when he told himself he was being ridiculous and that it was time to banish her from his head; she hadn't been there in a long, long time, and a single chance encounter that he only vaguely remembered shouldn't be enough to change that—not when, over the years, he'd worked so hard to achieve the distance he'd put between them, in the first place.

He'd managed once, and Sasuke managed again. A month slowly went by, and he would be proud to say he hadn't spared her a single thought.

Until she came knocking on his door one morning, looking beautiful and completely out of place on his front porch.

Sasuke frowned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her there. He couldn't remember if he ever had.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, watching her closely, as if expecting the answer to his question to be revealed to him long before she opened her mouth to speak.

She shifted awkwardly under his heavy stare. "Can we talk? I… won't take much of your time. I only need a couple of seconds, really."

Sasuke hesitated, still trying—uselessly—to read her, to figure her out, to gouge her intentions. After a moment, he stepped aside, welcoming her into his house.

She came to a stop as soon as she stepped into the foyer, making it clear that she had no intention of advancing any further. Sasuke closed the door behind them and then moved to face her, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation.

It would be another long minute before he received it.

Sakura was dressed casually, in a simple brown t-shirt and a pair of black jeans that hugged her long legs, together with white flats. He couldn't resist a comparison between the Sakura he had in front of him now, and the one he'd met that night, almost two months before. She'd been smiling and laughing and throwing her hands up in the air, swinging her body to the rhythm of the music, laughing sultrily in his ear, sinking her nails into the tender skin of his back. Now, she seemed lost and insecure, winding her small hands together in a clear display of nervousness.

He wondered which one of these women was closest to the real Sakura, the Sakura that everybody knew and loved. He wondered if either of them was.

Fed up with the silence, Sasuke spoke up. "What do you need, Sakura?"

His prompt appeared to snap her out of her daze. She swallowed, took in a deep breath, and finally uttered the words that, unbeknownst to him, were about to flip his life upside down.

"I'm pregnant, Sasuke," she told him. "I'm pregnant, and it's yours, and I want to keep it. I _will_… I _will_ keep it. And you don't have to do anything about it, you don't have to be a part of his life, and you don't have to be a part of mine. I'm only telling you this because… because I think you have the right to know. But I'm not asking for anything, and I promise you I never will."

With that, she turned and walked outside, the door closing soundly behind her, long before Sasuke could move and long before he was able to make sense of what she had said.


	24. alcohol (2 out of 3)

Sasuke leaned back in his seat, his hands coming to rest upon his stomach, while his onyx eyes carefully studied his unknown surroundings.

It was the first time that he saw the inside of Sakura's office. One would say that being part of the old Team 7 would have granted him the privilege of stumbling in through the window, escaping the hustle and bustle of the trauma room whenever he was wounded and instead going directly to the head medic, like Naruto always did, but the truth was that, when Sasuke abandoned their fragile bond, throwing its fate to the wind, he also abandoned all the possible perks that came along with it. He thought that was only fair, to both of them.

But the place suited her, he concluded. It was large, yet intimate—homely, in that way only Sakura, out of all the women he'd known during his life, could pull off. The walls were a nondescript white, while the floor was a colorless shade of grey. But she'd brightened it up with a red rug and a couple of colorful paintings, most of them depicting beautiful landscapes. Her wooden desk was large, situated in the middle of the room, but not quite—facing the door, it was pushed towards the large window opposite from it, maximizing the light it would receive as well as the heat that came from the radiator, which was pinned right below it. A bookshelf was filled to exhaustion to his left, where a door opened into a small bathroom, complete with a shower, towels, and toiletries. A leather couch was pushed up against the wall to his right, sporting two bright throw pillows and a beige-colored, soft-looking blanket. She had a scented candle burned halfway through beside the towering stack of paperwork on her desk. She had colorful post-it notes and what seemed to be a hundred pens. In a corner, stuck between a medicine cabinet and the main door, a tall coat stand held several white coats, an umbrella, two scarves, and one jacket.

How much time did she spend here? he wondered. She was a dedicated and extremely valued medic, only sent on the most dangerous of missions, where the possibility of the shinobi in charge to return to Konoha with the injuries he was more than likely to sustain was almost down to zero percent. She treated dozens of critically injured people in a single day, plus the ones that had remained her friends and kept the right to reap the benefits he'd declined.

Had she slowed down, even if only a little, since she found out she was pregnant? Knowing Sakura, she probably hadn't, and the thought made his hands clench in the material of his navy shirt. There were a million of emotions swirling inside of him when it came to the news she'd broken to him only a week before, running the length of the entire spectrum, and, not surprisingly, protectiveness was among them, as well. He felt _protective_, yes—of her, of that unborn child. It was something he was familiar with, something ingrained deeply into the very core of his being, something he no longer questioned.

He wondered if Sakura would, if she would find it strange—unbelievable, almost—that he worried about her. There had been a moment in the past where, he knew, she wouldn't have; a moment where she would have trusted him with her life. But that moment was long gone, and after everything that had happened between them, after everything that he had done to her, he suspected she would find it much easier to believe that he was plotting to kill her rather than that he was trying to figure out a way to protect her.

A flare of familiar chakra eased him out of his thoughts, causing him to straighten in his seat, sliding his careful gaze towards the door, waiting for it to open.

A second later, it did, and Sakura stepped into the room, freezing in the midst of the action of taking off her white doctor's coat, a startled gasp escaping her lips at the sight of him.

"Sasuke!" she exclaimed, the shock showing clearly on her features. "What are you doing here? Are you hurt?" Quickly disposing of her coat, hanging it beside the others, she closed the door and took a step forward—and then she stopped, completely immobilized under his intense stare, unsure of what to do, of what he wanted, of the reason why he was there, when he had never been before.

The Uchiha didn't mirror her panic. "Were you in surgery?" he asked, calmly, as he stood, walking around to the front of the desk.

Sakura seemed surprised by his question. A pretty furrow made its appearance between her brows, but the tension left her body as she realized that he wasn't in need of urgent medical help. "No," she told him. "My chakra hasn't been the steadiest since…" she trailed off.

"So, you haven't been scrubbing in?" he pressed.

Her frown deepened. "I have. But mostly to give indications."

Sasuke nodded, pleased.

But then, out of nowhere, almost, he remembered the _reason_ why he was pleased—and he swallowed heavily. Unbidden, his eyes trailed down to her abdomen. She was wearing a flowery dress with a white belt sinched in around her waist, and she appeared as slender as always.

"…You don't…"

She quickly caught on to his trail of thought. Her hand came to rest over her lower abdomen in an almost protective manner.

Sasuke frowned.

"It doesn't show… Not yet," she confirmed.

A full minute passed in complete silence, but the distance between them didn't lessen.

"Why are you here?" she eventually repeated, awkwardly shifting her weight to her right leg.

Sasuke waited for another second, studying her carefully. "You ran away from me."

"…I'm sorry," she said. "I just… I thought you needed some time to digest what I said…"

"I did."

Sakura sucked in a deep breath, visibly panicking. Clearing her throat, she tucked her pink hair behind her ears and walked past him, rounding the desk, before stopping and speaking in a strangled voice, "I'm sorry. I didn't plan this… I swear to God I didn't. I don't want you to resent me, not now and not in the future… I _didn't_ plan this. I didn't _want_ this. But it happened, and I can't… I don't…" She shook her head. "There's nothing I can do about it now. I can't…" Closing her eyes, she allowed a few of her tears to escape, to trail down her cheeks, before re-opening them and firmly meeting his own. "I can't be the woman that ends her child's life. I just can't, and I'm sorry—I'm so, so sorry—if that's what _you_ want, because you have your fair share of rights over this child, and you should have a say in what happens, too, but… I can move if you want me to!" she suddenly offered, making him frown. "I can move out of this place and you'll never have to see us again. I can do that for you. But I can't end this child's life."

"I never asked you to do that," he nearly snapped, unnerved by the direction in which her thoughts seemed to be headed.

"I don't know," was her quick answer. "All I know is that… you've made it clear that you don't want me in your life. And now… now we're bound together by a silly mistake we made one night we don't even fully remember, and… and I will do anything in my power to make this easier for you. If not seeing me again will do that… I can make it happen."

Until then, Sasuke hadn't realized—hadn't even thought about—how Sakura must be feeling because of his silence, because of his abandon. He'd returned home, to Konoha, he'd allowed her to heal him after the war, and then he'd disappeared. He hadn't known how to deal with her presence in his life. He hadn't known how to deal with her betrayal; he hadn't known how to deal with _his_. And he'd convinced himself he had no time to try. He had no time and no patience and definitely no space in his mind to try to mend their broken, possibly already beyond repair, relationship. Pushing her away had been easy, and, in time, everyone around them had seemed to understand that it had been for the best.

Not all bonds survived the test of time. Theirs was one of them.

It had been easy for him to focus on something—on _anything_—else, to banish her memory to a darkened corner of his mind—and perhaps it was because of that that he hadn't stopped to consider how difficult the sudden separation must have been for her. Sakura didn't have his coldness or his detachment, and he'd known, even then and all along, that she hadn't stopped loving him for a single second.

"I don't want you to leave," he told her. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he approached the desk that separated them. "You don't have to do this on your own."

Sakura's eyes widened at his confession, and he nearly growled in annoyance. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, since she seemed to have already concluded that what he wanted was for her to have an _abortion_, of all things, but Sasuke couldn't help himself. He'd hurt her before, a thousand of times, yet it annoyed him that she thought him capable of _that_. He'd always protected the people he loved, hadn't he?

That had been a long time ago, though, he remembered. Since then, he'd behaved horribly towards her, and afterwards pushed her out of his life forever. It was no wonder she kept reaching such conclusions.

Heaving a sigh, Sakura sat down on the chair he'd previously occupied, resting her elbows on the desk and running her hands through her hair. "I… I know you're not ready to be a father, Sasuke. The truth is, I'm not ready to be a mother, either. But I can't and I don't want to force you to take responsibility. I won't do that."

"Sakura, that's _my child_ you're talking about," he stressed, leaning forward with his hands on her desk, holding her gaze steadily.

Her green eyes were wide once again. "It's not as if I'm stopping you from… from having something to do with him. I'm not," she denied, shaking her head. "_Of course_ I'm not! I just—_Sasuke_, I don't… I don't know how to do this the right way—I don't know what the right way _is_! I don't know how _not_ to make you feel offended and I don't know how _not_ to make you feel _pressured_. I—"

"You didn't mean for this to happen," he interrupted, pulling her out of her stuttering misery. "I'm not asking you to leave and I'm not asking you to give it up. But I can't _not_ have something to do with my child. He will be an Uchiha."

The pinkette drew back in her seat from the shock caused by his words. A full moment passed before she gathered her bearings. "…Alright," she croaked, before clearing her throat. "Okay, then. …We'll make this work, then."

"Move in with me," he pressed, surprising her even further.

"M-_Move in_ with you?" she stammered. Blinking a few times, probably to ensure that she wasn't hallucinating, Sakura shook her head. "Sasuke, I appreciate that, I do, but… I can't. We can't do that. We barely _know_ each other… It's not a good idea. We can take care of this child without actually being… together."

"Who will take care of _you_?" he didn't waste a single second in countering.

"I… I can take care of myself."

"You don't know that!" he scoffed. "You haven't been pregnant before."

"Sasuke…"

"It _happened_. We did it, and we have to live with the consequences. Move in with me. And we can raise this child together. We'll see how it turns out… but it's our duty to try."

"You're right," she agreed. "But… let's wait, for now. Let's wait and see how things go. I know I'm… probably the last woman on Earth you ever expected to end up having a child with." She forced a smile to her face. "Sometimes, it's better if we don't force things."

After a moment spent in silent contemplation, Sasuke nodded.

Straightening to his full height, he thought he would finally be able to sleep peacefully, for the first time since he found out he was about to become a father. The prospect terrified him, and there was no doubt that there would be many restless nights ahead of him, but Sasuke was a man of action, and, for now, he'd completed his purpose. He'd talked to Sakura. He'd snapped her out of her daze. He had needed to act, and now that he had, he would have a night of peace before the next step started to torment him.

But he could deal with that. He was responsible. And he'd known, from the moment Sakura told him that she was carrying his child, that everything would change. He may not remember it, but he'd done it, and he would be a man about it. If being close to Sakura was part of the deal, then so be it, because the prospect of staying away, of not taking responsibility, was suddenly much more irritating than that of her proximity.


	25. comfort

Late on the evening of Christmas Eve, as she was nursing a muffin and a cup of hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon, Sakura received her tenth visitor of the day.

Sensing his chakra signature as soon as he left the elevator, she leaned back in her leather seat and, since she had already long since kicked her boots off, made herself comfortable by pulling her legs up. Silently basking in the happiness that, she found, always tailed his presence in her life, she patiently waited for the door to her office to open.

As expected, it did so without as much as a warning knock, and she couldn't help but smile behind the rim of her festive cup at the small gesture of familiarity.

"Hi, Sasuke-kun," she greeted warmly, watching as the man in question calmly walked across the room to take a seat on one of the chairs provided in front of her desk.

He'd always preferred the one on the right.

She glimpsed the glittering snowflakes in his hair and inhaled the cold smell of winter he had brought with him, and she decided she would take a walk once she was done with the first half of the paperwork. She did, after all, love winter more than any other season.

"How are you today?" she pressed, shifting in an Indian position.

Sasuke took off his coat and grunted an indecipherable response.

Sakura smiled. "Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea? I know you don't drink hot chocolate, but maybe you're feeling adventurous today?"

Shooting her a look from under his dark bangs, Sasuke leaned back in his chair, folded one long leg over the other, and went straight to the point, "So, Sakura. Is this really how you want to spend your Christmas?"

She gave him a small grin. "Sure. It'll make for a happier and healthier rest of the year." She gestured to her desk, cluttered with books, scrolls, various writing utensils, and patient files. "No leftover paperwork."

Sasuke appeared nonplussed. "I see."

"I'm festive!" she exclaimed, straightening her back and parting her robe. "Wearing a sparkly sweater under this white goodness."

"Lovely," he quipped dryly.

She giggled, taking a sip of her warm chocolate. "What are you doing here, Sasuke-kun? Did Naruto send you? Because he's been by himself, and he hasn't managed much."

"Naruto didn't send me."

"Oh. Well…" She shrugged. "Whether you expected this or not, it's not the way you'd want to spend _your_ Christmas. So, go on. Go to their party. Or go home. I don't know. But the hospital isn't your friend as much as it's mine."

Sasuke wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'm not interested in their _party_," he spat, as if the mere idea offended him.

Sakura let out a small chuckle.

"And…" Hesitating, he shrugged. "There's no one at home for me."

Only mildly surprised that he'd choose to share something so personal, Sakura sighed, smiling sadly. "Well… I can say I'm in the same situation. Who would have thought, right?" She gave a small, watery laugh, and tried to hide her tears.

Sasuke watched her closely, in a manner reminiscent of his favorite summon bird, with eyes calm and calculated, eyes that gave nothing away—yet eyes that weren't cold, not in the real sense of the word—and she didn't know if she actually managed to fool him.

"If you want, you can stay here… with me." She leaned forward and set her elbows on the table, giving a small shrug and hoping with all her might that, at least this time, he couldn't read the hope and need she felt were etched so deeply in her expression. "Keep me company. Forge some signatures."

A moment passed before his reply sounded clearly and truthfully in the warm room. "This isn't where you want to be, Sakura."

"It's the only place I _have_ to be, Sasuke-kun," was her answer.

When he didn't budge, didn't open his mouth to insist and didn't make a move to leave, she gathered a pile of papers and extended them towards him. He didn't hesitate in leaning forward and accepting them, and she smiled before picking up a pen and resuming the work she had been doing before he decided to drop by.

A minute passed in silence. Without needing to look at him, Sakura knew he wasn't working, knew he hadn't even opened the files she'd given him; knew he was watching her, instead. But she didn't mention it. This wasn't the first time she found herself in this situation, and she couldn't be more grateful for that.

Sasuke often visited her at the hospital that she now single-handedly ran. Sometimes, he helped her with the paperwork. Other times, he thumbed through—and frowned at—some of her thick textbooks. Sometimes, he brought her lunch, and they ate together, in comfortable silence—or through Sakura's animated rambles. Other times, he sat on the couch and sharpened his weapons or read a scroll of his own. Regardless of the setup, he was there—and that, to Sakura, meant more, much more than anybody could probably ever even begin to understand.

Because Sasuke was home, and Sasuke spent time with her, and despite everything that had happened, despite the war and the aftershocks that were still felt so strongly and painfully by nearly every person that had been touched by it, that was still everything she had ever wanted.

"It's alright to miss them," he suddenly spoke, jolting her from her thoughts.

She blinked, and looked up at him in surprise. "Sorry?"

"You heard me," he said. Leaning forward, he tossed the files she'd given him back on the desk, firmly holding her gaze. "It's alright to miss them. And it's alright to be hurting. And it's alright to still be mourning. And it's definitely alright not to be fine with going home to an empty house on Christmas."

"It's fine," she blurted out, and then inwardly slapped herself, immediately realizing that she'd said it too quickly to be believable. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head, amending, "It's not that, really. I… had them for a really long time. Much longer than you or Naruto…" She bit her lip. "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that, but it's true. I have to be a big girl about this and admit that I've had it better than most… and that crying and moping around isn't going to solve anything." With a shrug and yet another weary, shaky sigh, she returned to her paperwork. "It's just the way the world works."

With a sigh of his own, Sasuke stood.

Sakura blinked at the movement in her peripheral vision, raising her head in search of his eyes, surprised to see him on his feet and then even _more_ surprised to see him not moving towards the door, but around the desk and towards her.

"Wha—"

Once at her side, Sasuke methodically reached down and pried the pen from the clutch of her fingers, before easily lifting her up by the scruff of her white coat and instantly bringing her into his arms.

For a moment, Sakura was too shell-shocked to _think_, much less move. Sasuke had been back for almost half a year, and he'd learned not to flinch and, eventually, to return her hugs, but never before had he actually initiated one himself.

But then his warmth started to seep through their clothes, through her skin, slowly trickling a path towards her heart. Then his scent, musky, woodsy, and so entirely _Sasuke_, started to invade her senses. Then the utter comfort of his embrace completely overwhelmed her, bathing her from head to toe, and she no longer hesitated in snaking her arms around his waist and burying her head into the center of his chest, closing her burning eyes as his scent only became stronger and his arms only wound tighter around her in response.

Sasuke rested his chin on top of her head and a hand on the small of her back, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into her lab-coat.

He understood what she was going through; he understood it better than anyone. Naruto didn't, not really, because, as much as he liked to insist he did, he didn't know loss the way he did—the way _they_ did, now. Yes, Sasuke knew the exact pain that she was feeling, the exact pain that he hadn't truly wished on anyone, not even in his darkest hours, much less on _Sakura_—and, while there had never been anyone there for him, never anyone to comfort him and to tell him that life went on, that, at some point in the future, things would brighten up, he knew how much that would have meant; he knew how much good it would have done to him.

And he would give that to Sakura, because Kami knew she deserved it more than him.

"Don't downplay the importance of this simply because of us, Sakura," he murmured softly in her hair. "The fact that we've not had that you've just lost in a long time doesn't mean you shouldn't be hurting. Just because you're had your parents for a longer time doesn't mean their loss should be any easier to bear."

She was crying now, silent tears slipping from her eyes and absorbing into the soft material of the same shirt her hands were so tightly anchored in.

"You're hurting now, and it's alright," he continued. "This isn't really where you want to spend your Christmas. Completing patient charts while they, themselves, are off celebrating with their families. Wearing a sparkly sweater just for the heck of it. Sakura, you want to be with someone you love. And that's not selfish. It never could be."

"I'm a mess," she argued. "No one deserves to deal with that on Christmas." She paused, and nearly choked on her tears when she added, "And I don't want to go home. I _can't_. I can't go home."

"I know," he sighed, pulling away just enough so he could see her face and cup it in his large hands, wiping her tears away with calloused fingers. "How about this? Come home with me."

"I can't do that to you," she whined in response.

He scoffed. "I'm not leaving you here. And I wasn't finished. I was saying you should come home with me. And…" He shrugged. "We'll see. We'll… cook dinner. Celebrate Christmas, I guess." Pausing, he seemed to seriously consider the next words to come out of his mouth. "We can even make a tree if you really, _really_ want to."

She giggled wetly at that, and, though it made her heart rate pick up, she doubted it was a coincidence that his black eyes softened just then.

"We'll… keep each other company," he said, and seemed to decide, on the spot, to add something that he knew was a deal-breaker for Sakura. "I don't have anyone to spend Christmas with, either."

…And it wasn't until he said it out loud that he realized how true it was—and how much he would like for it to change.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: o712/2o14  
><strong>


	26. home

Sasuke woke up in an unfamiliar manner that morning, his brows pulling downwards in a frown that simply felt… awkward. As if it wasn't supposed to be there. As if it wasn't backed up by the feelings that usually accompanied it.

The contrast put him in a peculiar mood that contributed, more than a little, to the strangeness of the situation.

The bothersome daylight wasn't shining in his eyes. Nothing was digging uncomfortably in his body. His muscles weren't aching, not due to the previous day's long journey and not due to unfit sleeping places and positions.

He wasn't cold. He wasn't hot.

He didn't feel unpleasantly sticky with sweat or dirt. He didn't smell bad, either, something that he always noticed and something that always bothered him more, perhaps, than the ordinary shinobi.

No sudden noise reached his trained, sensitive ears, harshly snapping him out of his light doze and robbing him of what little rest he could have had. There was no threat to be aware of, no probable enemy to put him on guard, to strange presence to have him shooting up in a sitting position and instinctually reaching for his sword.

He wasn't hungry. He wasn't thirsty. He wasn't even _tired_.

No.

_He wasn't tired. _

Cracking one eye open at the odd realization, Sasuke calmly took in his less than familiar surroundings.

He was in a room. And not just _any_ room—he was in a _bedroom_. Not a hotel room. Not a living room. Not an abandoned hut in the woods. He was in a warm, lived-in bedroom, with deep red walls and a large bay window.

Daylight wasn't bothering him because, while the sheer white curtains did little to stop it from bathing the room, it felt nothing like the harshness of the sun trying to burn into his (already cursed) eyes.

Nothing—no twig or rock or broken spring—was digging in his body because he was lying on a soft mattress with an actual _pillow_ under his head.

His muscles weren't aching, because he was well-rested.

He wasn't cold, because he was covered with a thick, fluffy duvet instead of the old blanket he'd always carried, stuffed inside his sleeping bag. He wasn't hot, because the room temperature was just right; the sun wasn't beating down, mercilessly, upon him.

He was clean. His skin, his hair, every inch of him smelled—and, he was sure, also looked—better than it had in a long time.

The night had been long and peaceful and silent, and he'd _slept_. He'd slept so well and so much. He had been warm and clean and felt better than he had in longer than he could remember; he'd been out like a light the moment his face sank into the softness of the pillow.

Turning his head to the side, towards a nightstand, he saw that it was just past eleven o'clock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed himself to sleep in for so long. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been _able_ to sleep in for so long, regardless of what he may or may not have wanted or longingly wished for.

Warm as he was, under the duvet, he felt comfortable. He felt… he felt at peace. His muscles were relaxed, and it occurred to him that, perhaps, that was one of the reasons why they weren't aching anymore. The tiredness that, only a day before, seemed to have been etched so deeply in his bones and his entire being seemed to have vanished, disappearing, completely, in thin air.

When was the last time he'd slept in a real bed? A comfortable bed? A bed whose sheets were clean and soft and smelled so good?

When was the last time he hadn't been hungry—or thirsty or tired or in pain—when he woke up?

He couldn't remember.

When was the last time he'd felt so comfortable and so utterly at peace with himself and the world and everything and anything around him?

He didn't think he ever had.

There was a movement beside him, but it didn't alert him. In response, he simply, lazily, turned his head, again, on the pillow.

A full head of pink hair peeked out from beneath the duvet, and he allowed a small smirk to curl the corners of his lips upwards.

Yes. There was another reason why he wasn't cold, and there was another reason why he was so utterly disarmed.

That was the way he always felt in her presence.

Under the covers, and the weight of his arm, she shifted, turning so that she faced him, pressing her cheek to the pillow before opening her green, _green_ eyes and fixing them right on his.

A second later, a beautiful smile gained shape on her full lips. A smile so bright and genuine that it nearly took his breath away; it would have, had he not been so familiar with it. But because he was so _starved_ of it instead, he found it impossible to resist it, impossible not to respond to it with a gentle smirk of his own.

"Hi," she whispered tenderly, looking up at him with such adoration in her gaze that he felt his heart skip a beat, bathing in warmth.

"…Hi," he answered, carefully tracing the contours of her face with his all-seeing eyes.

Sakura was beautiful all the time and in all circumstances, and that was something that he could now freely admit, both to himself and, perhaps, to others; it was something that he'd unconsciously perceived and actively suppressed, he thought, for all of his life. But he decided she was most beautiful like this, in the morning and in his arms, with her eyes still slightly unfocused and her cheeks still flushed with sleep, with a gentle smile on her lips and her limbs heavy and lazy and wrapped around _him_.

_She_ was the reason, he realized. She was the reason for everything.

All it had taken was one mention—one lonely, scribbled line—in his letter, saying that he was coming home. And she'd been _there_. She'd been at the gates, bundled up in a red coat, barely visible among a flurry of snowflakes, waiting for him. She'd taken him to her apartment. She'd made him hot tea. She'd checked his body and healed his wounds. She'd bought him clean _clothes_. She'd stocked her kitchen with his favorite foods. She'd made place in her shower for new shampoo and body wash, imagining that he would not want to smell like a flower. She'd cooked him dinner, the first warm meal he had in Kami knew how long. She'd soothed his aching muscles with chakra and looked positively appalled when he suggested he slept on the couch. She'd let him share her bed, let him wrap his arm around her waist and bury his face into her hair.

She'd welcomed him into her life, once again, so selflessly and so completely, holding nothing back, giving him everything she had. With a single notice from his part, she'd dropped everything and went out of her way to make him feel at home.

And all that, after _everything_. After the war, after their heavy history, after he'd left her, once again, with a 'thank you' and a poke on the forehead.

The words, the gesture—they meant more to him than she probably knew.

And she waited for him and welcomed him home, regardless.

When was the last time someone had done that for him?

Sasuke had known of her dedication, and he'd known of her loyalty; he'd learned, firsthand, all about them. But he hadn't expected this.

When he left on his journey to redemption, it was true that he hadn't quite known what awaited him, and he'd done well on not setting off with assumptions. He'd been met with all sorts of situations, with all sorts of people in all sorts of places. He'd been chased away and he'd been welcomed, he'd been cursed and he'd been forgiven.

He'd seen the world. He'd seen the desert and he'd seen the forests, he'd seen the sun and he'd seen the rain. He'd seen so much, in such a short time.

He'd seen it all twice. He'd seen it all with different eyes both times.

His last journey had humbled him. The world was a vast place, entirely too vast for him to ever hope to pin it down—but perhaps the most important understanding one could gain stemmed straight from that acceptance.

This woman, on the other hand… He knew everything about this woman, yet she never failed to baffle him. This woman, so entirely dedicated to him, never failed to amaze him. Because, he might have not known what to expect out of his journey, but he'd definitely known not to expect to be welcomed home _like_ _this_. Like _she_ had welcomed him. With open arms in a warm embrace.

On all of his travels, fulfilling or otherwise, Sasuke hadn't known what he'd been missing. He hadn't even known what to hope for, because he hadn't been—and still wasn't—sure he deserved anything worth hoping for.

But, now, it was as if a light had been turned on in a darkened room.

He'd been missing home.

"Hey, Sasuke-kun." A soft whisper in the quiet room.

His gaze slid from the diamond on her forehead to her beautiful green eyes. "Hmm?"

"Welcome home."

He smiled.

He'd been needing _her_.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: o912/2o14**


	27. bad romance

Sasuke stifled a yawn behind his hand as he walked out of the bedroom and started a slow path down the hallway, with no reason—and definitely no intention—to rush. He groaned when his spine popped as he arched his back, stopping for a second to stretch lazily, rising up on his toes and lifting his arms over his head. Once he was satisfied, he let out a content sigh and re-started on his way towards the kitchen, rolling his left shoulder experimentally.

Although he'd had it for almost half a year, he still wasn't completely used to his new arm. It felt different—in a good way, compared to the notion of no arm at all—but it didn't quite feel like his, not yet. The dobe had assured him, more than once, when he'd seen his frowns and scowls, that it eventually would—but, given the fact that Naruto was very much capable (and very much _stupid_) of lecturing him about creating his own problems by not making his _arm_ feel _welcomed_ and _accepted_, Sasuke had his doubts about trusting him.

As he walked into the kitchen, he felt his stomach finally wake up with a growl. He smirked when he opened the fridge and noticed a drawer full of perfect red tomatoes waiting for him.

Pulling a couple out with an almost boyish enthusiasm, he, already knowing his way around the kitchen, quickly located a plate and a knife and took a seat at the table, ready to start his day off with a treat. He groaned when he realized he had forgotten the salt, and reluctantly rose to retrieve it.

Before he could cross the room to reach the counter, however, the front door suddenly burst open, and a flurry of heavy, angry footsteps approached him, causing him to turn around in alarm.

"Bastard!" Sakura's more than familiar voice shouted as she came to stand in the doorway, cheeks flushed and hair wild, thick snowflakes clinging to her red coat.

Sasuke blinked.

"You're a bastard!" she yelled again, distraught beneath her obvious anger. "Naruto's been right all along, and I should have _never_ defended you when he said it!"

Watching her closely, Sasuke carefully combed through his most recent memories, trying to determine whether he'd said or done something wrong, something that could have been misinterpreted or misunderstood. When his search turned up blank, he dug even deeper in his memories, as unlikely as it seemed to him that Sakura would fire up over an old mistake.

But he couldn't think of anything other than the spat they'd had the night before about Sakura wanting him to buy a Christmas tree and him insisting it was stupid. They'd settled that, though.

It was on his to-do list for the day.

"Sakura?" he asked, unsure.

"You _promised_!" she spat. "You said you had come back! What the hell? Where do you get off playing with me like this?! You _know_ how much I want you to _finally_ come back! You _know_ it! It's _everything_ to me! How can you come here one night, telling me you're back, telling me you're not leaving anymore, when it's obvious you'll be out of the village at the first chance you get? Hell, maybe if I was just a little late today, you'd have already been gone!"

At that, Sasuke glanced down at himself in confusion. He was still wearing his pajamas. Shifting his bewildered gaze back to hers, he asked, "…What are you talking about?"

"You didn't even tell _Naruto_ you were back!" she shouted, stalking across the kitchen to push at his chest in a fit of frustration.

Sasuke wouldn't admit, even to himself, that he'd already taken a step back at the sight of the fire in her green eyes.

"I went to him, overflowing with happiness, ready to celebrate because I thought we'd finally achieved what we've dedicated our entire freaking lives to! And I find that he has no idea what I'm even talking about!"

Still unable to make connections, Sasuke raised a hesitant eyebrow. "…So?"

It was the wrong thing to do. "_So_?!" she screamed, punching him in the chest, sending him even further backwards, nearly hitting the counter. "_So_?! How can you expect me to believe you have even the _smallest_ intention of staying when you haven't even told your best friend you're back?" Her voice died, and she choked on her words, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. "But I should have known," she spat. "I should have known you'd find a life and a home someplace else, _without_ me. And I should have known we'd _never_ be enough to make you come back, to make you stay. I should have known, and maybe I _did_! Maybe I did, but I ignored it, because I'm an idiot." Barking out a sardonic laugh, she rolled her eyes at herself. "I'm a genius, but I'm a complete and absolute _moron_ when it comes to you because you just bring out the worst in me, Sasuke-kun—and do you have any idea how that feels? Any idea at all? It's horrible. It's—"

"Sakura," he called, interrupting her.

"_What_?" she whined, looking up at him in despair.

"Shut up."

Green eyes flashed. "What?!"

Hands on his hips, he took a step forward, and then another, and another, more than a little bit aided by her instinctual response to back away, avoiding him and his tall, intimidating presence.

"The reason why I didn't tell _Naruto_ that I was back," he started, looking down at her, pinning her with his heavy stare, "was because I didn't get a chance to."

She blinked up at him.

He narrowed his eyes, and in that moment, Uchiha Sasuke finally realized that this woman would be the death of him. A secondary realization hit him even harder, though, letting him know that, strangely enough… he was quite content with that.

"I came to you _first_," he spat. "And, yes, _clearly_, you're a moron. For jumping to conclusions. I actually think you're a moron most of the times, not just with me."

Her wide green eyes suddenly turned hopeful, and he knew then that it was unlikely that his jab had scratched even the surface of her conscious awareness.

His own gaze softened.

"…You came straight to me?" she whispered.

He heaved a sigh. "…I did."

"Sasuke-kun," she murmured in a soft, relieved exhale, before rushing forward and crashing into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder.

Sasuke didn't hesitate in returning the embrace, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I love you," she whispered. "Thank you for coming home."

"Aa," was his only predictable answer.

But his hand smoothed over her pink hair at the nape of her neck and his lips pressed fleetingly to the crown of her head… and Sakura had the certainty. He was _home_.

Nothing would ever be the same now. No more writing letters, no more stomach-churning anxiety leading to horrible nightmares, no more question marks about what he was doing, where he was sleeping, what he was eating, how people were treating him, if his ghosts finally let him sleep at night. No more snuggling in his worn shirts because they were the only clothes keeping her truly warm during cold nights. No more praying for his safety. No more sadness over seeing tomatoes at the grocery store and realizing she had no one to buy them for. No more holing up for days in the hospital after he was gone and no more being so high-strung on happiness and excitement when he announced he was visiting that she was unable to complete any ordinary task. No more.

And it didn't bother her.

Because, with him finally there for her to share her life with, everything would be a million times better.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 1112/2o14**

**A/N:** You can consider this one to be related to the last one if you want—or not! Only this was set after Sasuke had come and gone a couple of times. The last one was basically Sasuke coming home for the first time since he left.

Please review! :)


	28. thank you

"Can I ask you something?" Sakura inquired softly, innocently, breaking the silence that had blanketed the empty room as she nursed the last sips of her glass of wine.

They were sitting at the kitchen table, in the aftermath of Naruto's Christmas party, which had very rapidly turned from a celebration of the holiday itself into a silly—but apparently perfect—excuse for every shinobi of their generation (and then some) to gather together and eat and drink and feel good. His new apartment, bigger, assigned to him after the war, cleaned and decorated by Sakura and Hinata for the occasion, had been completely packed with people.

Sasuke's eyes had been on Sakura the entire night; on her blood-red dress, on the short hemline that only just brushed the middle of her thighs, on the cleavage that somehow managed to be provocative without showing more than was decent, on the high-heels that made her legs even longer than they already were; on her pink hair, carefully styled waves teasingly brushing her delicate collarbones, and her full, red lips, permanently stretched into a gorgeous smile.

Now, the party had died down and the guests had left. Naruto had gone to accompany his new girlfriend home, and both of his old teammates had received a slightly drunken order to stay put for a sleepover.

Sasuke had no intention of helping the idiot clean up in the morning.

But he'd stayed. Because Sakura sat across from him, looking all sorts of beautiful.

He was sober enough to recognize that the alcohol he had consumed over the course of the evening surely aided him in the admission, but in itself, it didn't come as a surprise to him. It wasn't the first time that he watched her, drank her in and wondered what he'd done to deserve her.

At this point in his life, he didn't think there would ever be a last time, either.

"Aa," so he answered.

Sakura hesitated. She bit her lip, leaned forward, tapped her fingers against the stem of her wine glass. "…Why did you say 'thank you'?"

Her question caught him off guard, and he furrowed his brows in confusion, although he knew very well and right away what it was about.

"When you left the village for the first time, all those years ago," Sakura clarified. "I asked you to stay. You didn't listen, but you said 'thank you'. And I…" Huffing a frustrated breath, she shook her head. "I tried so hard to figure out what you meant by that, I thought about it day and night, and I wish I could say I stopped after a while, but the truth is… I never really did. I never stopped wondering." Looking up at him, she carefully searched his eyes, requesting an explanation. "Can you answer me now?"

Sasuke heaved a silent sigh. He held Sakura's curious gaze, and the alcohol seemed to suddenly leave his blood, carried away and dissolved by the baggage of her question and the strength of the recollections it brought with it.

He tried to choose his words carefully, but how could he? He remembered every single thought he had had and emotion he had felt that night. And Sakura deserved everything good that he had to offer, and if she thought the truth belonged in that category, there was nothing he could do about that but comply with it.

"…You gave me the strength to leave the village," he eventually murmured, quietly but firmly. He didn't dare look at her while he spoke, and he didn't dare stop. He gave a slow shrug, watching the red napkin beneath his empty glass intently. "I was a kid. I was angry and hurt and I _hated_, so intensely—but I didn't know what I was doing. I made my decision and I packed my bags and I left my home, and with each step I took… I became more and more insecure." He huffed. "I was terrified of what I was about to do, and even more terrified of admitting it. Then… _you_ met me." He paused as the memory of that night replayed itself in his head, with the same intensity with which it sometimes plagued his dreams at night.

"…And I _confessed_ to you," she whispered. Her broken, disbelieving voice made him hide a wince. "I poured my heart out to you. I did _everything_ I could to stop you—and I was prepared to do _so_ much more! And you're saying that I only made you _leave_?" She gave a dry laugh, and pushed away from the table, the sound of her chair scraping suddenly, violently against the wooden floor echoing in the empty room. "_Well_. I've been meaning to ask you this question for a long, long time, but I clearly wasn't ready to hear the answer."

She made to leave, footsteps hurried, but then stopped in the doorway. Hesitating, she turned around, and met the gaze he had lifted, looking, all of a sudden, for all intents and purposes, as though he'd _betrayed_ her. It was a look he hadn't seen on her face in a long, long time, especially directed to him.

He didn't like it.

"Was I _that_ annoying?"

He clenched his jaw, onyx eyes flashing as he commanded, "Don't put words in my mouth."

Sakura snapped her mouth shut and frowned in confusion.

He sighed. It wasn't exactly easy for him to talk about it. It wasn't easy for him to talk about a lot of things, but especially about those that called his feelings into question. Sakura, the kind, gentle soul that she was, knew this, and never really pushed.

But it occurred to him now, as he stared into her teary green eyes, that she needed him to put her first for a change. She'd been at the top of the priorities in his life for a long time now, but when it came to their relationship? He was afraid he always came first there; she made sure of it. But now… _she_ was the one who was hurt; she was the one who needed to be comforted; she was the one who needed to be taken care of. It was something that had never quite happened before, but Sasuke would be damned if he didn't rise to the occasion.

Swallowing, he leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table and lacing his hands together, choosing to break eye contact and instead settle his gaze upon his empty glass again.

"My reasons were all selfish," he spoke. "I wanted to leave because I needed power, because I was jealous of Naruto, because I had to kill my brother… and exactly _because_ they were all so selfish, because they were all centered on me and dependent on me… I figured I was the only person that could decide what to do about them, how to achieve them… what path to take. There was no one else there to give me advice, to tell me what I should do—no one that truly knew what I was going through; no one that I would listen to. It was _my_ life that I was about to destroy. How I went about it depended entirely on _me_. I… wasn't sure that leaving was the only way, the right way. But you… you made me realize my mistake. I wasn't alone, not really. I didn't only have myself to think about. There was you, too. Because you loved me… and the only way to ensure that you would be safe was by leaving you." His eyes rose to meet hers again, and they weren't apologetic, but they were sincere. "You weren't safe around me, not anymore. Not if I had stayed, not if you had come with me. Losing you wasn't an option. And, as soon as I realized that… as soon as you opened my eyes to it with that confession… I didn't doubt my decision anymore."

"Sasuke-kun…" Sakura whispered, in awe with his explanation.

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. The tension had left his shoulders, and part of him was glad that he'd cleared the air, that he'd managed to share that with her. But another part of him, a part whose existence he loathed, but that always ended up making its presence known, wilted in shame and berated him for being so stupid.

There was something incredibly intimate, much more intimate than anything else, almost, about opening up to a person the way he was finding himself doing, more and more often, with Sakura. There was an immense amount of power exchange. It was a great weakness that he made for himself, allowing her access to his most private thoughts and feelings. It was a great deal of ammunition that she received, should she ever feel the need to defend herself against him.

Falling in love with someone, he realized… it wasn't the most comforting of feelings. It was overwhelming and it scared the crap out of him.

But this… what he had with Sakura… it was bigger than him; bigger than her; bigger than both of them, together.

He believed it was meant to happen. They were meant to explore this, however way it ended.

He also believed that a time would come when stepping into her arms would be synonymous to coming home. When he would no longer feel that he was stripping himself bare every time he shared the tiniest piece of himself with her. When it would feel comfortable and natural to give her everything he had to give.

And he _wanted_ to get there—so fast, so soon—because, if there was anybody in the world that deserved every single second of his effort, it was Sakura.

"And when I said 'thank you' before I left again, after the war…" he added. "It was because I knew you would wait for me. And I needed that. I needed that more than I even knew at that point."

Hurt melted away by his honest answer, Sakura slowly approached him. The colorful lights of the Christmas tree set up behind him reflected in her bright eyes and her long earrings, in the embroidery of her dress and the polished leather of her shoes.

It wasn't the first time he concluded that she looked like a goddess.

Setting her purse on the table, she held her free hand out, waiting for him to take it, to grasp it in his own and intertwine their fingers intimately.

"I will always wait for you, Sasuke-kun," she whispered. Green eyes watched him tenderly—soft, beautiful, and filled with affection. "I love you."

The hint of a smile teased at Sasuke's lips as he brought their joint hands close and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of hers. "Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 1512/2o14  
><strong>

A/N: For **sasusakufan2357**, who requested a 'thank you'-based prompt! It's late, I know; I've been meaning to write it since you suggested it, but I only now got around to doing it. Hope you've enjoyed!

Please review! :)


	29. christmas present

"So, guess what?"

Sasuke looked up from his spot on the bed, where he was leaning against the headboard, reading a scroll, to see his girlfriend standing beside him, green eyes sparkling and full lips stretched into what he had learned to recognize as a mischievous grin.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The expression she was sporting was more than familiar, but he had trouble placing it—just as he still had trouble, more often than not, pinning this woman down.

Mentally running through the last half an hour, he tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

She'd walked into the bathroom after him to spend an inordinate amount of time in the shower, as women normally did, apparently, massaging all sorts of serums in their hair and lotions in their skin. As a result, she now smelled ridiculously good, wrapped up in that sweet scent of apples and cinnamon that she'd bought sometime at the beginning of December and that he'd instantly fallen in love with—because it literally made him feel as if he wanted to either lick her from head to toe or just plain-out eat her. A strange reaction, because sweets weren't even on his list of things he _tolerated_, but, as he found was usually the case, everything was better with Sakura; everything gained a different connotation; nothing was off limits to him when it came to this woman.

He hadn't told her how much he loved her newest purchase. But he had a feeling she'd noticed—what with him having his nose buried in the crook of her neck much more often than usual.

He wanted to snort at the thought that she'd bought the damn things with her, but refrained, and instead carried on with his inspection.

Her hair was mostly dry, with only the ends slightly damp and brushing against her collarbone. Her cheeks were flushed from the hot water. Her… Was she wearing _make-up_?

Sasuke's eyes narrowed even further.

She smelled like sin, her green eyes were smoky, she'd taken the time to blow-dry her hair, and she was smirking down at him.

It didn't fully dawn on him until he saw the way her hands were coyly playing with the sash on the oversized white robe she had donned.

He dropped the scroll, throwing her a glare that was half exasperated, half frustrated. "You're kidding, right?"

She blinked innocently down at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play that card with me, Sakura," he commanded. "I don't need to remind you that it's never worked."

Sakura grinned, gave a giggle, and jumped, onto her knees, beside him on the bed. "So…"

"No," he immediately interrupted.

"Touchy," she purred, reaching out to run a hand down the length of his bare abdomen. "Are you still upset that silly ninja scratched you with his lousy kunai?"

Sasuke suddenly grasped her small hand in his own, immediately halting its downward progress as he glared up at her. "I don't need to remind you that we're on a mission."

"You certainly don't," was her simple answer.

"Then _what_, pray tell, are you doing?" he hissed in return, pushing her hand away. "Because the last time I questioned your ability to stay focused during an assignment, you broke three of my ribs."

She smiled sweetly down at him, and immediately quipped, "Good times."

Onyx eyes narrowed once more. "I'm not playing, Sakura."

"Well, neither am I!" She grinned, straightened, and started fidgeting with the sash of her robe again, instantly drawing Sasuke's attention to the sliver of skin peeking out in the area right above her breasts. "You _know_ how much I love Christmas, Sasuke-kun, and now, thanks to that idiot, Naruto—and _you_, don't you think I'll forget how you encouraged him anytime soon—we're probably going to end up spending it on the road! And I had big plans for this Christmas," she complained with a pout. His attention was immediately redirected. "_But_, I went into town today and I think I found a way to salvage the holiday. Or… at least salvage your _present_." She tugged on the sash and the robe started to part, but before he could get another glimpse of soft, supple skin, Sasuke slid down the headboard, grabbed a pillow and unceremoniously smacked it over his head, forcefully blocking his view.

He would have used his hands for a less dramatic effect, but he didn't trust them. They'd betrayed him one too many times when it came to Sakura and her antics.

"Sasuke-kun!" Her melodic laugh sounded muffled through the thick barrier of feathers.

"I don't _care_, Sakura," he ground out. "Go put some proper clothes on."

"How do you know that what I'm wearing is improper?"

He snorted, because that might as well have been the stupidest question he'd been asked that day—Naruto's included.

He knew everything there was to know about Sakura's little seduction games by now. The way she bit down into her supple lower lip. The certain, unique way her green eyes started to sparkle. The way she always threw a robe or a coat over whatever crazy garment had caught her eye earlier in the day. The way she always came to stand beside him while he was on the bed, or the couch, or the dinner table. Her wicked grin. Her coy tone of voice. The very words she used.

This woman, Sasuke had found early on, had a thing for lingerie. Sexy, _expensive_ lingerie. And because it seemed as though she always needed to_ give_, she surprised _him_. Constantly. With all sorts of things—in all sorts of places.

He'd never really had a reason to complain. This spontaneous, crazy nature was part of the list of things he absolutely adored about her.

Again, he'd never outright told her that. But he suspected, again, that she might have figured it out by herself. Because what else would have given her the crazy courage to do _this_?!

No. This was wrong. They were on a mission. They had been attacked by a group of rogue shinobi only hours prior. They weren't even that far from the place of the ambush, in a small village a couple of miles west. (How she had even found a lingerie boutique in such a place was _beyond_ him.) It was snowing heavily. They were supposed to keep their eyes and ears open. The damn _idiot_ was in the other room. The—

His keen ears picked up a soft thud.

It was the sound of her robe hitting the floor.

He groaned.

"Come on, Sasuke-kun," he heard her coo. "Don't be like that. I chose this especially for you. At least look at it."

"I can't just _look_ at it."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Then do whatever you want with it! Like, say, rip it off me?"

"No!" he nearly shouted, hands forming fits in the pillow. "We're on a mission! We—"

She giggled. "Ever so proper. How about you loosen up a bit, huh?" Suddenly, her touch was back, fingers trailing softly down his abdomen, sending shivers up and down his spine.

Then they were gone again—tugging at the string of his trousers.

"Goddamn it, Sakura!" he complained, harshly throwing the pillow all the way to the other side of the room, Sharingan flaring to life as he prepared to glare her into the ground.

He froze and swallowed heavily instead.

Sakura smiled coyly from where she was still kneeling beside him, clad in a blood-red _garment_, made out of lace and silk that parted down the middle to show her smooth, flawless abdomen and a pair of matching panties that could _barely_ even be called that.

"You like?" she asked, arching her back, pushing her breasts forward—not that she needed much help in that department, as they were practically spilling out of the bra, anyway.

"I—" he instantly croaked, rising to the challenge. Then he groaned, cursed, and grabbed her hips. In one swift movement, he'd thrown her over to the other side of the bed and had her trapped underneath him, swallowing her squeal with a bruising kiss.

She shook with laughter as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "You do like it," she muttered against his lips, as best as she could.

"Shut the fuck up," was his only answer.

Yes, he thought. Sakura could drive him crazy in a million of ways, from the way she smelled to the way she dressed, from what she said to what she did.

He didn't think she would be as perfect as she was for him otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 1712/2o14**


	30. merit

"Goddamn it! Not again!"

Sasuke paused in his lazy action of pouring himself a cup of hot tea when his girlfriend's voice resounded through the apartment, strongly backed up by a healthy dose of frustration.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Every morning with Sakura unraveled exactly in the same way.

There would be him, waking up almost as soon as the sun rose high in the sky. There would be him taking over the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, shaved, took a long, hot shower, and generally got ready for the day, as did any other normal human being. There would be him slipping in his predictable, but comfortable training gear. There would be him starting breakfast.

Then there would be him walking back down the hallway to attempt to wake up his girlfriend, whose alarm clock would have already been abused numerous times (on really bad mornings, even squashed on the nightstand like a nosy bug). There would be him being ignored and pushed away and whined at and eventually kicked out of the room. A sullen version of him would then be trailing back into the kitchen with a scowl on his face despite the fact that the amount of annoyance in his system really wasn't all that high.

Then, a long time after that—and much, much later than when she'd been supposed to wake up if she wanted to make it to the hospital in time—there would be Sakura: screeching as she all but stormed into the bathroom.

The time management of this woman when it came to mornings was _atrocious_.

"Sasuke-kun, why didn't you wake me?" she whined as she hurried into the living room, throwing what appeared to be random scrolls into her bag.

This time, Sasuke did roll his eyes. The least she could do—and he'd mentioned it to her a million times—was pack her bag before she went to sleep at night.

In no hurry himself, he slowly came to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning with his shoulder against the wall, holding a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

"I did _try_," he replied calmly.

"Really?" she asked, throwing him a look from under messy bangs as she bent to close the zipper on her satchel. "I didn't feel anything."

"That's because the last time you _felt_ something, I did, too. My ribs. When they broke."

As expected, she cringed.

"Don't remind me of that," she whined, hurrying to close the distance between them and standing on her tiptoes to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek. "I'll make it up to you—_again_—but I really need to get going now. I love you. Bye!"

With that, she was storming across the living room and out through the front door, leaving behind only faint traces of the smell of her body wash, without having dried her hair completely, without having eaten a single bite, without a damn _coat_.

With a groan of aggravation, Sasuke stalked in her footsteps, pausing only briefly to set his cup on the coffee table and grab her red coat from where it was slung, forgotten, over the back of the couch.

"Hey," he called after her as soon as he was in the doorway.

Sakura lived on the ground floor of a modern apartment building, and she hadn't made it further than the front steps. She stopped immediately at the sound of his calm, authoritative tone.

"Your coat." It was a command, and she seemed to well know it, judging by the way she immediately turned and ran back to where he was standing, accepting his offering by quickly slipping the thick winter coat on and reaching up to give him yet another peck on the cheek in gratitude.

"Thank you."

Then another.

"Thank you."

Then another, following by a groan. "God, I really wish I were more of a morning person so I could spend some quality time with you before I went to work!"

Sasuke's eyes flooded with amusement at the sound and sight of the pure disappointment in her voice and expression. "And how nice would it be to have time to dry your hair," he quipped dryly.

Sakura groaned, before making a move to leave.

But Sasuke grabbed her shoulders and kept her in place. "Hey," he called over her responding whine, searching to meet her gaze, seeking to calm her down. He smirked once she was looking at him, and his grip loosened. "You run the damn thing."

Sakura's grin was almost enough to light up the entire village on that cold, dark winter morning.

"I love you," she repeated, before she slid out of his grasp and hurried down the stairs, pausing to blow him a kiss and send him another brilliant smile.

Then she jumped onto a rooftop and disappeared out of sight.

Sasuke heaved a sigh and buried his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was just about to turn around and head back inside when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a movement.

It was Sakura's neighbor, the old lady that lived on the ground floor of the other block, alone, with two cats, and whom Sakura had said baked her muffins and sent the dobe away from her front door when she knew she was resting.

Sasuke's experiences with the old woman were vastly different and less pleasant. Unlike the cats, who instantly took a liking to him, the old woman didn't, and she didn't hesitate at all in making herself heard. Her reasons ranged from him betraying his village to him being an Uchiha, but if they all had one common point, that was the idea that he didn't deserve Sakura. Sasuke couldn't argue with that; he couldn't argue with a lot of what she—or all the other people he'd met, in Konoha or on his travels, for that matter—said. He'd learned the hard way that the best way to cope with the hatred was to bend his head and accept it.

He couldn't change his past, and he couldn't change his present. All he could change was his future, and he was working on that, so much. Every day, he was making an effort. Every day was a struggle. But people didn't see that, and how could he blame them? He couldn't.

Raising a hand in greeting, he half expected the old lady to ignore him, half expected her to throw her rolled up newspaper at him.

But neither happened.

And, when he took a closer look, he realized she wasn't glaring at him.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I'll be damned," the old woman said after a moment of silence, sounding awed, but at the same time sarcastic—a feat, if you asked Sasuke. "You're actually good for her."

Then she turned and entered her apartment, slamming the door behind her and leaving him standing there, looking very much like an idiot, he was sure, frozen in place and with his jaw slack, mouth almost dropping open in shock.

Yes. Every day was a struggle. Every day brought on a new challenge that he didn't seem to know how to deal with. And people didn't see that, not really, and it wasn't their problem or their concern. But, perhaps… Perhaps, if he looked now, he would finally be able to glimpse the end of his journey. Perhaps the time had come for him to finally see some results. Perhaps it hadn't, and perhaps he would never truly be redeemed. Perhaps living this sort of life was his punishment.

But, he thought… if there was a chance that he could become worthy of Sakura in someone else's eyes, that might very well just be enough for him.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 1912/2o14**


	31. mistletoe (1 out of 2)

First, he stormed into the apartment like he _owned_ the place, glaring at everything and everybody in his path, a breathless Naruto following behind him, barely able to walk, bent over and holding onto his stomach, struggling more than a respiratory distress patient to wheeze in precious air while laughing so hard tears were sliding out from the corners of his eyes.

Sakura frowned, threw him a mild glare, unsure of what he had done to piss Sasuke off _now_, but eventually shrugged and returned to the conversation she was having with Choji, having been involved in one too many of their arguments (and having known her teammates for far too long and far too well) to actually want to know what this one was about.

Then, when she unintentionally stumbled upon him in the kitchen, where she went with the intention of pouring herself a drink, he _snapped_ at her.

She greeted him with a smile, and didn't lower herself to the level of mentioning the obvious spat he was having with Naruto.

He grunted a reply—which wasn't unusual, and which Sakura would have normally brushed off, more than used to his _unique_ way of communication. But what raised red flags of alarm was the _way_ he grunted his reply.

Usually, he did it in a lazy, completely laid-back manner, where he had his hands in his pockets and was, without shame or remorse, demonstrating the complete lack of interest he had in her presence and in what she was saying. Sometimes, he displayed amusement, where he had one eyebrow raised and lips curled into a small, barely visible smirk. Other times, he was annoyed, and he had his hands clenched into fists and his eyes glaring daggers at the object of his frustration. But _this time_? This time he had all but _spat out_ his 'hn', and he was watching her with a _murderous_ look in his eyes, as if she had just killed his favorite puppy right in front of him and then tossed it over her shoulder for good measure.

She blinked, frozen in place, with the bottle of red wine in one hand, suspending in mid-air, and with the half-full glass in the other.

"Sasuke-kun—" she started, but before she could as much as get another _letter_ out, he huffed, threw her a glance that she could only interpret as one of absolute _disgust_, and walked out of the room, leaving her standing there, with her mouth wide open in shock.

Later in the night, she was engaged in a conversation with Kiba, who was animatedly narrating an amusing story about his latest mission. The youngest Inuzuka was a person that Sakura could easily describe in two words: fun and honest.

Admittedly, she hadn't had much interaction with him before the war, mainly because she had always been busy, either training with Tsunade or occasionally gone on a mission, usually with Ino's team, sometimes with Lee's, which had led to an even closer tie forming between the two old friends/rivals and a very nice friendship developing between her and the infamous weapon wielder, Tenten. But fighting side by side in a war appeared to have had a strange—yet, at the same time, expected and completely understandable—influence on the shinobi of Konoha, who had bonded in a manner that was, as proven by the amount of time that had passed and the way the situation hadn't changed a bit, impossible to destroy.

Sakura liked Kiba. He made good jokes, and although he was crude at times, he was never outright, intentionally mean; he was easily provoked, quite rowdy, and playful, but never disrespectful. He was also always down for _anything_, so when Ino had told her, a year before, that there should be no party without Inuzuka Kiba, Sakura knew she shouldn't have snorted in that derisive way that she had—because now the blonde had a very annoying knowing look to send her way every time she saw her laughing at one of his jokes. On top of that, though, Kiba was a strong shinobi who, unlike Naruto, knew exactly when it was time to become serious.

All in all, he made her smile a lot, and he made her laugh even more, and Sakura genuinely enjoyed herself in his presence.

Not to mention she absolutely _adored_ Akamaru.

Which was why she could say without a shadow of a doubt, medical reputation on the line, that she almost had a heart attack when, while she was in the midst of a laughing fit over Kiba's latest pun, she was suddenly grabbed by the arm and yanked away, causing her to let out a surprised squeal that alerted nearly the entire room.

She had no idea what was happening, her mind completely blank with shock in a way that she was sure it had never been before, as she was dragged across the living room floor of her best friend's house and into a darkened, silent hallway, before being violently swung around and almost thrown into the wall beside her.

"What—" she started, but then stopped, green eyes going wide as they fell on whom she could only call her attacker. Very soon, though, the narrowed, and sharpened into a glare.

Sasuke stood in front of her, glaring back just as viciously, onyx eyes basically on fire, his large frame taking up almost the entire doorway and blocking out what little light was coming through the cracks around the now closed wooden door, nostrils flaring dangerously, in sync with the rhythm of his moving chest, as though he was trying, _very_ hard, to calm down by taking deep breaths.

He was, she thought, the picture of dangerous volatility.

But Sakura had long since stopped feeling intimidated by Uchiha Sasuke. Probably somewhere around the time when she'd had to patch him up, because he was half dead and missing an arm, lying in a pool of his own blood not because of the war they had just won, but because of a _brawl_ he'd had with his _best friend._

She had a feeling she'd then also lost a bit of the respect she'd always had towards their strange way of bonding by throwing fists at each other, as much as she appreciated the fact that it was it that managed to finally bring him home.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed, standing up as tall and proud as she could and absolutely refusing to cradle or soothe her aching arm in his presence.

"_You_," he snapped in response. "Shut up! You're too fucking loud."

With that, he turned around—again—and walked out the way he had come, slamming the door in her face—_again_.

Sakura made a strangled noise, a dangerous mixture of anger and frustration and indignation and absolute confusion.

By the time darkness had settled outside, and Christmas Eve was in full swing, Sakura was convinced that, for some reason or another, Sasuke officially _hated_ her.

Sullen, annoyed, and more than a little bit baffled, she found herself sneaking glances at him throughout the entirety of the evening, only to find him, more often than not, with his eyes already set on her figure—_glaring._

Even more confused, she would turn back to whoever it was that she was then conversing with, her overall bewildered expression clashing with her angry frown.

After close deliberation done while she was supposed to have been listening to Lee's (more than a little) enthusiastic speech, she reached the conclusion that she hadn't done anything to upset him. She hadn't even seen him in a couple of days, and the last time that she had, she'd healed him from a stupid spar he'd had with stupid Naruto. What could she have possibly done to piss him off then? Unless he had wanted to keep that broken rib as a memoir and she had ruined it, that is.

With a silent scoff that, thankfully, Shikamaru was too bored to pay any mind to, Sakura decided that Sasuke had no reason to be acting the way that he was, and if he did, if she had really done _something_, then she had done it without knowing or intending, and the least he could do after all the occasions on which _he_ had knowingly _and_ intentionally upset _her_, was to have to decency and good will to come up to her and at least try to discuss it like a normal, adult human being.

Which was something she was becoming more and more convinced of that he, unfortunately, was not.

That being said, from that moment on, and starting with the last time she caught him shooting daggers at her from across the room, right as she was laughing at a ridiculously funny (albeit dirty) comment Genma had made—which had prompted him, in return, to become glared at by Kakashi—as if the mere sound of her momentary happiness offended him, Sakura told herself she was through with paying attention to Sasuke and with following his retarded non-verbal cues to an answer that was always anything but that. If he wanted to be part of her life, he needed to step up and stop causing her tears and grief and anxiety, because, after everything she had been through, those were three things that Sakura didn't need any more of.

Besides, she didn't have a duty and she definitely didn't have an incentive to keep trying to figure out what he meant through every damn unpleasant action that he initiated.

That resolve lasted until he did something that was absolutely _crazy_ from every single angle one could possibly look at it.

She was standing in the doorway with Shino, who, she had recently discovered, was quite an interesting person—once one brushed away the creepy fact that he had _bugs_ hidden underneath his clothes. She liked the way his mind worked; he was smart, calm, and collected. He had once helped her with creating an antidote for a tricky poison, and his expertise with insects proved, from then on, to be, strangely enough, helpful around the hospital.

She had thus developed a tendency to seek him out whenever she needed a fresh perspective. He was much like Shikamaru in that way, except she could only go to the youngest Nara when she had a problem regarding missions, because biology was apparently something the great genius hadn't really bothered to wrap his brilliant mind around.

Quite enthusiastically (as Shino was the only person—other than Tsunade and Shizune and occasionally Ino, although the blonde had a tendency of nodding off midway—that could listen to her passionate rambles about medicine and then actually come up with a response), she was telling him about a breakthrough she'd had only the day before, her own personal Christmas present to herself. He commented on her energy in a funny manner, and she laughed, placing a hand over his shoulder.

A fizz was heard, and the smell of burnt plastic reached her trained nose, before little flakes of ashes started to fall down on her head and shoulders.

With a gasp, she stepped back. "What the…?" She raised her head. There, pinned to the doorframe, were the remains of a charred mistletoe.

Glancing around the room in absolute shock, it didn't look as if anybody but Shino and herself had noticed the weird happening.

Then she met Sasuke's red, _angry_ eyes, and her perspective changed.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

In the distance, she heard Naruto's loud, boisterous laughter, and not for a single second did she doubt the fact that it was one of _them_ he was laughing at.

Her eyes narrowed in a glare that was just as cutting as Sasuke's, despite the added dimension of his Sharingan.

Sasuke could be mad at her for any reason that he wanted and he could stay mad at her for as long as he wished—but if Naruto was involved, as well, and they were ganging up on her in any way, shape, or form, they were going to hear it, and they were going to _hurt_.

And she would start with the great Uchiha. He had filled his quota of annoying her for the day.

But Sakura was nothing if not a lady—in any place other than the battlefield—so she waited until the party had died down and most of the guests had left.

She was helping Ino clean the living room, gathering paper cups and wine glasses onto a tray, when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, Sasuke violently pushing a once again laughing Naruto out of the kitchen.

With a quiet growl murmured under her breath, the pinkette impulsively abandoned her unfinished task and angrily stomped her way across the room, ignoring her best friend's loud protests and the weird glances received from the other people who had stayed to help, grabbing Sasuke's arm just as unceremoniously as he had grabbed hers and dragging him, just as angrily, through the same doorway that he had dragged her.

She didn't manage to swing him around in the same manner. He was a bit too big and too strong for her to do that without adding strength that would have thrown him right through the wall, rather than just into it.

She slammed the door behind her with her foot, and fixed a vicious glare upon him, which he met with one of his own in less than an instant.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?" she hissed. "You've been glaring at me and dragging me around and burning decorations over my head the entire fucking night! And don't you imagine I haven't noticed the glances you've been exchanging with Naruto or the way he keeps laughing at you or the way you've been pushing him around all day! Now, I don't know that the _fuck_ it is that is wrong with you and I'm not even going to ask because I'm afraid the answer will piss me off even more, which I'm going to say would be quite a damn _feat_ right now and one I don't particularly care to make happen! But you listen to me—"

"_Listen_ to you?!" he snapped, interrupting her. "Why the _fuck_ would I listen to you?"

Sakura drew back with the force of his words, but recovered quickly. "Oh, geez, I don't _know_, maybe because I never lied a day in my _life_ to you?! Or would it _maybe_ be because I saved _your_ damn life?!"

"Never lied to me a day in your _life_?!"

"I've never goddamn lied to you!"

"How's deceiving?" he yelled. "Does that not count?"

Sakura's eyes narrowed until they were mere green slits shooting daggers at him. "What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what you know it does! It means that you're a goddamn liar! All night, you've been walking around in your little red dress, showing off your goddamn legs and every goddamn other thing that you have, laughing with every man in the room!"

Sakura scoffed. "Laughing with—"

"And Naruto _told_ me what you did in the war!"

"What!"

"Smooching with everybody—"

"Excuse me!"

"It wasn't enough that you were their medic and saved their lives, you had to be the whole deal, didn't you? You had to make them goddamn _happy_, too!"

"What the _fuck_?!"

"And all this, when you told me to take you with me when I left last year! _Take you with me_! When you—"

"Fucking hell!" she finally yelled, taking him by surprise as she smacked him across the head, sending him sideways into the wall behind him. "You listen to Naruto?! _Naruto_?! Naruto, who's been laughing at you all fucking day? And you're a ninja, Sasuke-_kun_?!"

"I—"

"_Smooching_ with people?! Smooching with _everybody_?!"

"You said you'd wait for me!" he all but screamed.

"And I _didn't_?!" she screamed back, smacking him again.

"Ow!" he complained.

"And I didn't _wait_ for you, you fucking asshole?! _No_?!" She slapped him again. "I've been smooching with everybody instead?!" And again. "Is that what you're saying I did?!" And again.

"Stop fucking hitting me!" he snapped, shoving her hands away with his forearms.

"I'll stop fucking hitting you when you stop being so fucking stupid! How about that? Do we have a deal? Or is that something you can't manage?!"

"Naruto told me—"

"You mention Naruto's name one more time—"

"You were standing with Shino under the mistletoe! _Shino_! Fucking—"

"So what the fuck?"

"You—" he started, but Sakura hit him again.

"You are the only man I've ever considered kissing under the damn mistletoe, and _this_ is what I get in return? Of course! I'm an idiot!"

Sasuke hissed and straightened to his full height, taking a step forward, forcing her to take one back. "_You_," he said, deadly calm, "_kissed_ someone before that wasn't me, and I—"

"Well, you kissed Naruto himself and you don't hear _me_ complaining!"

He sputtered. "I did not—"

"Well, I didn't, either, and at least I'm not lying about it!" she yelled.

Sasuke huffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and petulantly looked away.

"That's seriously what you've been doing all night? Watching me to make sure I don't end up under the mistletoe with someone that wasn't you? Because Naruto told you I kissed boo-boos during the war? And you _believed_ him?"

His harsh glare was indication enough. "Why the fuck not?" he snapped. "You certainly seem pretty comfortable with every man in the room! And you've always had a _big_ heart, haven't you? What if—"

Sakura barked out a laugh, interrupting him. "Well, let me tell you something that will just summarize the result of this entire evening, Sasuke. You? Me? Mistletoe?" Her eyes sharpened into a glare. "Never going to fucking _happen_."

Considering the conversation done, the pink-haired medic turned—flipping her hair over her shoulder for added effect—and grabbed the doorknob, more than ready to slam the door in his face and teach _him_ a lesson, for once.

But then her arm was grabbed again, and she was whipped back around to collide with a hard chest—and her shocked lips to suddenly be claimed by another, _aggressive_ pair.

She made a small sound of surprise and instantly opposed the action, more than a little pissed off with the game he had been playing all evening and the reasoning he'd claimed was behind it. She pushed at his chest, partially hurt and one-hundred-percent annoyed, but for some reason, didn't quite manage the necessary control to use her chakra-infused strength.

Sasuke pulled away after a mere moment, glaring down at her, obviously annoyed at her lack of response.

"That's not a _kiss_," she spat, aware of the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe above them and, thus, of his transparent intention. "That's assault."

"Here's the thing, though," he growled. "_No one_ gets to assault you again. Is that clear?"

Sakura glared, and with one more round of pushing and squirming, finally managed to break out of the cage of his arms. Pausing for a second to pull down her wrinkled dress, all of the while glaring straight into his eyes, she huffed and, without another word, walked out into the living room, slamming the door behind her.

Yes.

Uchiha Sasuke would have to stop causing her tears and grief and anxiety. And if he managed to learn how to actually use that brilliant brain of his in social situations, as well, and not only on the battlefield… she supposed that would be one hell of a big plus.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 2312/2o14**

**A/N:** For **xenaphobiia**, on Tumblr, who requested a Sasuke-hasn't-had-his-first-kiss-yet-and-wants-to-make-sure-he-gets-Sakura-under-the-mistletoe-first fanfic! I imagined it differently—and I tried to write it that way—but it just took a life of its own, and I couldn't stop it! I intend to come back with a sequel, but if I don't manage, then hopefully you enjoyed reading it! Thanks again for the prompt! xx

Also, I have decided to add dates on my prompts so that I can remember when I wrote them. I suck at that.

Please review! :)


	32. mistletoe (2 out of 2)

On the first day of Christmas, as large snowflakes started to fall heavily from the overcast sky, Uchiha Sasuke could be seen stomping through the main entrance of Konoha General—not sporting, for once, a limp or an obviously broken arm cradled to his chest or a breathing problem caused by a fractured rib.

It would be a lie to claim that his visit had nothing to do with his idiotic best friend, though, regardless of the fact that his contribution hadn't consisted of inflicting an injury upon him.

No. His crime, this time, was another.

_Being an absolute moron_, Sasuke would happily supply—but not without hesitation. After all, Naruto was _always_ a moron, and it didn't exactly reflect well on him that he hadn't yet learned how to deal with that.

Sticking his hands in the pockets of his shinobi pants, he rode the elevator to the second floor, before starting a well-known path down the intricate hallways of the building, a quiet journey leading to a certain med-nin's office—who also happened to be the head of the hospital itself.

For Sasuke, though, Sakura would always be simply his med-nin. Whether or not he ever really said it out loud or admitted it to anybody other than himself.

He'd located her chakra signature from the moment he opened his eyes that morning. It was his first task of the day, seeing as he was well-aware of that fact that he had to do _something_ after what he'd done the night before.

Preferably something that would sit a bit better with her.

She'd left her apartment a little before lunchtime and headed to the hospital, no doubt to retrieve or return a stack of paperwork, and she'd been there for the better part of an hour, unknowingly giving him more than ample time to reach his destination.

Now, as he stopped in front of her office door, he felt her chakra spike in what he'd learned to recognize as annoyance, and he smirked, able to tell that the feeling was more than likely directed at him—at his unexpected presence and her realization that he had no intention of heading anywhere _past_ her office.

Kakashi—the current Hokage—was scared of Sakura. Tsunade, from what he'd seen—the past Hokage—also appeared to show signs of intimidation, sometimes, when her dear apprentice clenched her fists and popped her knuckles. Naruto was absolutely terrified of the pinkette, and so were half of the ANBU operatives who'd worked with her in the past. Even Sai (whom he still didn't see as a teammate, but who formed, unfortunately and through Naruto, a large enough part of his life for the Uchiha to find it logical to include him) was afraid of her, as little social awareness as he had.

But Sasuke wasn't. It was strange, and perhaps it had quite a lot to do with the fact that Sakura was very rarely mad _at him_. He was what he would call the best part of their group of friends, after all. He was intelligent, rational, didn't speak when he didn't have to, but at the same time _could_ speak coherently when the circumstances called for it, he was powerful and reliable and, mostly, a good teammate. He didn't read porn. He wasn't a loud-mouthed moron, and nor was he a socially inept _clone_. He rose to a lot of Naruto's challenges and that got him in trouble more often than not, but Sakura—an intelligent, rational person herself—always seemed to know where the ideas had come from, and thus always knew where to direct her anger.

So, instead of being scared, Sasuke felt… strangely _attracted_ to this volatile, violent woman. He felt her chakra spike, and he couldn't help but smile. He heard her indignant screams, and he couldn't help but agree with her. He watched her, carefully, reverently… and he couldn't help but think of a million ways to restrain her or shut her up.

He turned the knob without knocking, allowing the door to swing open as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned with his shoulder against the wooden frame in a relaxed pose that was completely at odds with the deadly glare she sent his way as soon as he came into view.

As expected, she was crouched down in front of the cabinet where she stored incomplete patient files, a vision (as usual), dressed in tight black jeans and a little grey sweater that molded perfectly to her lithe body, complete with tall, matching high-heeled boots. She was wearing make-up—her cheeks were rosy and her lips were red—and her hair fell nicely around her face in that manner it always did when she had time to blow-dry it in the mornings.

She wasn't as stunningly sexy as she'd been the night before, but he'd be damned if she wasn't tempting anytime, anywhere, no matter what she wore or how she looked like.

Which was, undoubtedly, one of the reasons why she'd unknowingly driven him so crazy at that damn Christmas party.

"Sakura," he greeted, watching her carefully, unsure of what to expect.

She huffed, tilted her chin up in arrogance, and turned her attention back to her paperwork.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "You're not talking to me," he stated—and received nothing but silence in return. He snorted. "Seriously?"

"I didn't hear an apology, and it's certainly not because I'm deaf," came her short, clipped answer.

"An _apology_?" The Uchiha scoffed. "You're not going to hear an _apology_."

"Excuse me?" Green eyes lit up on fire, and Sasuke wondered, not for the first time, if he was, albeit without realizing, constantly trying to elicit her anger on purpose. "You don't need to apologize?" Slamming a folder back inside a drawer, Sakura stood, pinning him with a glare. "You accused me of _making out_ with _multiple_ people because your idiotic best friend told you some stupid story and then kept _laughing_ at you for the entire night!"

He shrugged. "It wasn't an entirely unbelievable story."

Her mouth nearly dropped open. "You did _not_ just say that to me."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Listen, Sakura… All I'm saying is that… it sounded like something you'd do."

"_Smooching_ with people?!" she screamed.

Sasuke winced in response to her volume, but otherwise didn't flinch. "_Caring_ about people," he corrected. "Wanting to… make them feel better. You have a big heart, we all know it, and it's always been your biggest weakness."

"Oh, I see," she said, leaning backwards and crossing her arms over her chest, her expression very easily letting Sasuke know that, no, she actually didn't see—anything, at all. "So, having a big heart suddenly turns me into a whore."

His eyes narrowed, annoyance starting to prickle underneath his skin. "I never said that."

"You might as well have, because you certainly implied it!"

He pursed his lips. That wasn't the way he saw the situation. Actually, if you asked him, there weren't really two ways to see it. Naruto has painted a somewhat plausible picture for him—a very colorful one, at that—and he hadn't questioned it. It had been stupid of him, that was very true, and it had certainly been completely uncharacteristic, but nothing was really ever right with him and in him when it came to Sakura. He just couldn't see straight when she was in the picture. Everything became jumbled up, mind and heart and soul and logic and feelings, and Sasuke couldn't even begin to make sense of the mess they made, not to mention he probably wouldn't have the necessary patience to untie the knot even if he _were_ able to find its end or beginning.

Missions? Those were his expertise. Military tactics? He'd read his father's entire library. Intelligence? He was a genius. Planning, strategizing, organizing? No one was better than him in that department, except perhaps the lazy Shikamaru. Although on a smaller scale, he could even deal with Sakura's insane medical subjects.

But feelings? Sakura herself? They brought out a tendency to act much, much too fast for his brain to have time to wake up, much less catch up. Perhaps it was because he was always, constantly aware of the fact that, no matter what, he could _not_ lose her, and, as a ninja, he'd been taught, from a very young age, that a quick reaction usually guaranteed a successful result and an accomplished objective.

Perhaps she just drove him absolutely crazy, to the brink of madness and back in an insane dance, and so his only option was to retaliate in the same fashion.

He didn't know. All he knew was that he'd seen red when Naruto even suggested the idea that Sakura might have kissed someone else, that another man might have had his hands on whom he considered to be _his woman_, regardless of the fact that he'd been taking his sweet time in actually staking his claim, and despite everything he'd done to her in the past.

Thus—not surprisingly, from his point of view—red had been the one color in his visible spectrum for the entire night.

He wasn't proud of it, not even close, but he didn't particularly feel as if he'd done something wrong, either. He hadn't. He was just protecting what was his, and perhaps he'd been wrong to listen to his moronic teammate and he'd been even _more_ wrong to take his anger out on Sakura, but that was the reason why he was there, wasn't it? To make her understand, and make it all better.

"I didn't imply anything," he insisted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside the room, closing the door behind him.

Sakura tilted her head and raised a perfectly pink eyebrow, as though in a challenge.

And, suddenly, not for the first time, it was him who wanted to _smooch_ the sassiness out of her.

"Oh, didn't you?"

He heaved a sigh. "I… was angry," he admitted. "But I shouldn't have listened to Naruto. I see that now."

"Damn well you shouldn't have!" she snapped, the intensity of her glare never wavering. "How did you even—? I thought you were smarter than that, but I can see I was way wrong! He was _laughing_ at you the entire freaking night, for God's sake!"

"He laughs all the time and about everything," Sasuke hissed back, his defenses spiking up as he saw his pride in danger. "He's an _idiot_."

"My point exactly!"

"I see where you're coming from," he said, as calmly as he could. "Can you say the same?"

Pursing her lips, she visibly held back a reply that Sasuke was sure would have been in his favor. Angry or not, there was no way Sakura wouldn't see his point. Naruto was a true moron, and no matter _how_ you looked at the issue, that could have all sorts of different impacts.

"You're telling me," she started, eyeing him with suspicion. "You don't really believe what he told you. Even after the way you reacted last night."

Sasuke nodded. To be perfectly honest, he didn't know if he had ever believed it, even for a second. It was the mere _thought_ that had driven him crazy, the mere _idea_ and distant _possibility_, combined with Sakura's easy confidence in interacting with every single male in the room, as well as the infectious laugher that had been a product of said interaction. And it was these, together, that had led to him getting slapped, multiple times, in the hallway of a stranger's house.

"I'm going to be honest and tell you I have absolutely no idea how that even _happens_, but not to worry, because it doesn't matter. You don't _own_ me. I'm completely free. If I wanted to _smooch_ with people, I had every right to, during the war and otherwise, even now!"

His chakra spiking again, in alarm as well as in annoyance, he gave her a look that clearly spelled out that he thought she was insane, and repeated, "You said you'd wait for me."

"And I did!" she hissed. "So, what did you do in return? Accused me of _not_ waiting for you. And, you see, Sasuke? That's crap I'm no longer willing to take, even from you!" With that, she grabbed her purse from the top of her desk and stomped across the room, her intention clear as she brushed past him in order to reach the door.

But Sasuke would have none of that, and he immediately grabbed her arm, not unlike the manner in which he'd done it the night before, when he'd dragged her through a wide-eyed crowd and away from Kiba's slimy, wandering hands and less-than-subtle _intentions_, and pulled her against him, wrapping his free arm around her tiny waist and thus putting a halt to her every movement.

"Sakura—"

"_No_, Sasuke," she snapped, glaring at him, head titled up even as she wore high-heels. He loved that about her, though. He loved that she was so tiny, if only for the misleading suggestion that she would be easy to protect. "It doesn't work this way."

"I'll kiss you," he blurted out, the one thing that made sense to him at that point.

Green eyes widened, and she drew back in his arms. "Excuse me?"

"I'll kiss you," he repeated, as if that was the solution to all problems. Turing his head slightly, he motioned towards the mistletoe hanging over her door. "Under the mistletoe."

Sakura cursed under her breath, a mutter that sounded remarkably like, 'damn nurses', before sputtering, "It does _not_ work that way."

"I don't know any other way it could work," he admitted.

"You can't just _claim_ me and move on! You may be a freaking caveman, but I'm a strong, successful woman, and—"

"I'm not interested in moving on."

"—you just want to kiss me because Naruto planted this crazy idea in your head about _other_ men doing it, and you didn't like it!"

"That's true, I didn't."

"It's not because you actually _want_ to kiss me! You just don't want _others_ to kiss me! That's—"

"God, you have a mouth on you," Sasuke interrupted her, groaning in a strange mixture of half annoyance, half satisfaction.

"_Excuse me_?!" Sakura shrieked.

He resisted the urge to smirk. "It means shut up."

Suddenly, Sakura slumped in his arms, all signs of resistance gone as she glared up at him. "You've really never done any of this before, have you?"

Sasuke shrugged. "So what if I haven't?" Then, after a second, his eyes narrowed and his hold on her tightened. "Are you saying that you have?"

"Ugh!" Sakura screamed, immediately starting to push at his chest again.

So, Sasuke did the one thing that he _had_ done before and thus knew it worked: he bent down and kissed her, reinforcing his belief that it was the best method to shut up a fiery woman like her.

Too bad he was the only one allowed to use it.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 2712/2o14**

**A/N:** This did not turn out the way I expected, either. What is it with some prompts that keep doing that? I have no idea!

Anyway, December is nearly over and (besides mourning the end of the winter holidays) I almost can't believe I am actually going to finish a 'writing marathon' (if you wish) for once! This makes me very, very happy.

Thank you for reading, and as usual, please let me know what you thought! :)


	33. new year's eve

"I LOVE YOU, SAKURA-CHAN! AND I LOVE _YOU_, SASUKE-TEME! EVEN IF YOU'RE A JERK! I DO! I _REAAALLY_ DO!"

It was on that note that Konoha 11's New Year's Eve party ended, as its very life and soul, the loud and bright Uzumaki Naruto, was dragged out the door by his much more subdued girlfriend, not putting up as much physical resistance as he did verbal, possibly unable to due to the large amount of alcohol in his system.

Finally managing to close the door behind him, his female teammate sagged against it, heaving a sigh of half relief, half exasperation.

It had been a common, active effort between her and Hinata, getting him out of the room, and it had lasted for at least half an hour.

Turning around, still leaning most of her weight against the wooden door, she met Ino's amused eyes from where the blonde was still sat, quite comfortably, at the bar, and she couldn't resist letting out a tired giggle.

It had been a wild night, without a doubt. Having learned from its mistakes, Konoha 11 had, this year, rented out a place to host their last party of the year, but Sakura truly didn't want to consider all the broken glasses and chairs they would have to own up to and pay for come tomorrow morning—or, should she say, later on today?

A small groan from the other side of the room interrupted the two women's exchange, causing them to immediately turn their heads to the side, surprised.

A second passed, before both burst into laughter.

"I guess it's your turn, Forehead," Ino commented, perhaps a bit more amused that she would have normally been.

Sakura let out another giggle in response. "Oh, goodie!" she added dryly, before finally pushing off the door and starting to cross the empty dance-floor, heading towards the very place where the tired groan had sounded from.

There, slumped awkwardly over a table, looking all sorts of rumpled and adorable—though, above all else, _drunk_—was no one other than Uzumaki Naruto's best friend, old teammate, and recent drinking partner, the infamous, ex rogue-nin, last of his clan, Uchiha Sasuke.

Sakura had no idea why she'd ever thought it would be a good idea to put Sasuke and Naruto and entirely too many bottles of alcohol in the same room. It was only logical that they would, without doubt or much delay, strike up _some_ sort of competition involving what they had most accessibly on hand.

The only explanation she could find that was even remotely in her favor, considering she'd known them for so long, was that she hadn't really thought at all.

Well, at least she could comfort herself, as usual, with the idea that _she_ was the only medic on the team, and that, if her two favorite idiots were ever in discomfort—and they would be, oh, how they would be after this night—there was no other place for them to go but to _her_. And it was entirely in her power to deny treatment. For one, she was out of reach for Naruto, and for two, well… she could very well pretend to be asleep while his equally stupid _brother from another mother _started to whine that his head hurt and his stomach couldn't hold anything down.

Yes, she thought. That would only be fair. After all, he did cause her quite a bit of annoyance tonight.

Wanting it to be a special New Year's Eve, considering it was their first one together, she'd gone and put a nice number on for him, a sparkly blue dress and peep-toe shoes that caused her toes to freeze but that went perfectly with the outfit, and what had _he_ done? He'd gone and gotten _drunk_. With _Naruto_.

With a small shake of her head, the pink-haired medic grabbed the empty bottle of sake still in his grasp and forcefully pried it out, setting it loudly on the table, beside him. Then, bending down, she slipped one arm around his waist and brought one of his own over her shoulders, and, with a pinch of chakra applied in just the right place in just the right manner, hauled him up to his feet.

Sasuke grumbled something unintelligible under his breath in response, his head lolling sideways onto her shoulder. It was only a matter of seconds before his entire body weight was sagging against her, and Sakura grunted with the effort it took to keep him upright, chakra-infused strength or not. After all, even with her high-heels on, Sasuke was still a full head taller than her, and every inch of him was a mass of hard muscle.

From across the room, she heard her best friend giggle drunkenly, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Nice man you've got yourself over there, Forehead," the blonde cackled. "Just the right size for you to carry around!"

"Shut up," came Sakura's answer.

But it soon became clear that she wouldn't be able to carry him home—not with how much alcohol she, herself, had ingested over the course of the night. She was tipsy, and tired, and, given the fact that it was almost five in the morning, a little sleep-deprived, as well.

What a great way to start the year, she thought sarcastically to herself.

"I'm leaving, Pig," she announced, gripping her boyfriend's waist tighter. His head moved even further in the crook of her neck with the movement, lips brushing sleepily over her skin. "Is Sai picking you up?"

"Yeah, yeah, he'll be here any minute," she answered, moving her hands in a shooing motion. "Go. Take your man home."

Shifting him again, struggling to join her hands together behind his back, she quickly formed the necessary seals for a transportation jutsu, holding tightly onto him as they traveled, in only a second, the couple of blocks to her apartment.

_Their_ apartment, she quickly corrected herself as she opened her eyes to find herself in the living room.

It had been hers, originally, from before the war. She supposed one could easily see that in the way it had been decorated—in the light walls and the matching furniture and the colorful throw pillows.

But, from the moment the war ended, it had, slowly but surely, also started to become Sasuke's. Through the time he'd spent there before he left again. The times when he visited, in between his travels, staying too little for Kakashi to warrant finding him a place for himself, but too much for him to stand crashing on Naruto's smelly couch. The clothes he started to leave behind, here and there, in the laundry room or draped across a random chair, until Sakura gave in and offered him a drawer. The shoes abandoned neatly beside the front door. The tomatoes in the fridge. The type of tea only he drank in the pantry. His shampoo and body wash in the shower. The smell of him deeply ingrained in the pillows.

Sooner than she could have imagined, her apartment was no longer only her home. It was _theirs_. A place where he could return and they could be together. A place where they could cook and argue and cuddle and hang their clothes beside one another.

It was all Sakura had ever wanted, and, with the start of a new year, all she could do was hope and try her very best to keep things, for once, just the way they were.

"Come on, Sasuke-kun," she groaned, readjusting her grip on his body before starting to drag him down the hallway and into their bedroom. "Let's get you in bed."

"Mmm, Sak-ra," he muttered sleepily into her shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

"Yes," she replied, repressing a laugh. "Sakura."

She'd thought it would be easy to remain mad at him, considering the idiotic, reckless way in which he'd acted, but it had only been about five minutes since she told that to herself, and her resolve was already fading.

Because how _could_ she? How, when his head was buried so closely, so defenselessly, in her neck? How, when he was mumbling all sorts of unintelligible, sweet things that he certainly wouldn't normally say? How, when his hand had curled around her shoulder so tightly? How, when his lips brushed, unconsciously, over her skin, and he kept taking deep whiffs of her perfume and sighing contently in that adorable manner he always did and thought she didn't notice?

Reaching the bedroom, she tried to get him to lie down on the bed as gently as possible, but failed when he slipped out of her grasp and tumbled suddenly onto the mattress. She grimaced, but, thankfully, he didn't seem to mind or notice.

_How_, when his cheeks were flushed red and his hair tousled and his eyes half open and unfocused? How, when his only reaction was to turn on his stomach and let out a heavy sigh, one hand curling in a pillow and dragging it sloppily under his head.

With a grin so large it almost hurt her cheeks, Sakura bent down and easily slid his shoes off, setting them neatly to the side, before standing and preparing to strip him down to his boxers.

By now, she was already resigned to the idea that she _wasn't_ mad at him, not even a little bit, and couldn't quite stand the thought of him feeling even worse because he was too hot during the night.

She was just pulling his shirt out of his pants when she heard him murmur her name again.

"S-kra…"

"Hmm? What is it, Sasuke-kun?" she asked, leaning over his body to hear him better.

"Mm," was his answer, and for a brief moment, she thought that was the end of it, causing a giggle to burst past her lips and nearly overshadow his next words. "…'R we home?"

For one precious second, she froze. Then, another wide smile split open her lips, and she pressed a kiss to his temple, nuzzling her cheek against his and nestling her chin in the nook of his shoulder.

"We're home," she murmured gently in return, brushing her lips against his clothed shoulder blade—catching, from the corner of her eye, his resulting drunken smile. "…You're home."

* * *

><p><strong>Date:<strong> **31/12/2o14**

**A/N:** This is officially the end of my self-imposed prompt marathon! I'm very, very happy that I managed to see it through to its end and very proud of pretty much everything I've managed to write this month! Hopefully, you've enjoyed it at least half as much as I have!

Thank you for reading and for reviewing, for your prompts and for your encouragement!

Happy New Year, everybody! :) xx


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